Under The Skin
by 0-o-sweetiez-o-0
Summary: Based on my interpretation of a scenario in which Leon and Steve could meet. Some time after the events of 'The Darkside Chronicles'. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Three hundred and seventy eight days.

Steve half heartedly scratched a chalky line into the cement on the wall of his cell, in a small, exposed square where several tiles had long since been removed, marking yet another day he had spent in captivity. He couldn't recall the date. He didn't know what time it was, either. But at least he knew that he had aged a year or two…that's a start, right? Using the little piece of jagged slate in his hand, he then began sawing slowly at one side of the electronic collar sitting around his neck, continuing this repetitive, daily ritual for what felt like hours, before dropping the slate and stroking the tips of his fingers across the mark, a rough, shallow groove clearly noticeable on the surface of the sleek black metal. At least he was making progress. It's not even as though he thought he'd eventually get the collar off, or that doing so would aid him in any way at all, but to still have something to work towards, some kind of goal, gave him…something left to live for. It stopped him from going insane, at least.

But it didn't distract him from the pain in the pit of his stomach. Whether from hunger, or from something else, he couldn't really tell, but each day when he woke up, the pain would be there, sometimes growing stronger until it was almost unbearable, and others lessening to mild irritation. As the weeks passed, he could feel his body growing weaker and weaker. His lips and eyes were always dry. His throat always hurt. His hands would constantly shake, and his skin was so pale it was beginning to match the colour of the tiles that lined the floor and the walls of his concrete cage.

He was fully aware that he hadn't eaten in over three weeks, and although he'd been drinking the water from a cooler that had conveniently fallen close enough to the barred door of his cell for him to reach, he knew all too well that the human body could only last so long without food, especially in such a weakened state. What's more, the water in the cooler was quickly running out. The human body could last a much shorter period without water. He was well aware of that, too.

He couldn't help but wish, no matter how passionately he loathed those who had once held him prisoner, that they were still there with him. He'd rather be a glorified human guinea pig, and have even the slightest ray of hope, than die slowly and painfully with no chance of escape, which was the short and unfortunate summary of his current situation.

He looked back to the wall on his left, where the three hundred and seventy eight tiny white lines were standing messily side by side, one of them circled lightly in the same scrawling fashion, marking it as one hundred and sixteen days since the only other human beings remaining in the facility, maybe even in the continent, had packed up and left him behind. It's not even as though he wanted to speak with them. But even the miniscule amount of human contact he received through looking at a stranger's face through the bars was enough to satisfy his tortured mind. And even that had been taken away from him.

He never quite understood why they had kept him alive at all. If it was the virus they wanted, then what had he ever been useful for? They had never asked him any questions, never asked him to tell them what he knew…they had never spoken to him at all. They had treated him like an infected animal and nothing more; feeding him, giving him water, periodically changing the sheets on his bed. Most of the time he hadn't even been conscious, drifting in and out of a restless, unwelcoming sleep; plagued with nightmare visions that he could never recall were dreams or reality. The itching, pinpoint bruises scattered uniformly up and down the skin of his arms were the only telltale sign of what had been happening to his body while he was unaware. In this case, ignorance was far from bliss.

He lifted his left arm slowly, his eyes grazing over the tiny, faded scars to his wrist, where there was another scar, much darker and more noticeable than the others. The veins around it were clearly visible through the surface of the skin, pulsing slowly, trying their best to restore the damage to a wound that would never heal. The skin around his wrist, spreading slightly up his arm like an infectious disease, was faintly tinted green; a constant reminder of the reason he was there, of the past he tried desperately to forget, of the fact that he was no longer…human.

He jumped a little as a faint, echoing noise reverberated through the metal of the bedpost by his head. As it grew slowly but surely louder, he couldn't help but fear that he was not the only 'monster' left in the facility. In fact, in such a large building, it was highly unlikely that he was. However, the thought didn't scare him half as much as it excited him. After all, he'd been trapped in this cold, dark, mind numbingly boring cell for over a year. He was going to die for sure anyway. Why not go out in style and get killed by a giant, over-powered, mutant octopus or something? Well, at least that was one way to look at it. The other, of course, was that this was his chance at freedom. If something found him and broke the bars on his cell, he'd have a chance to escape before whatever it was made its next move. It was probably a long shot, but if he was going to die anyway, what harm would it do to at least 'try'?

He wasn't going to sit still and let this chance pass him by, that's for sure.

Struggling slightly against the weight of his own body, he used the bedpost to push himself to his feet. Over his time in captivity, he had tried sporadically to get up and move around his cell, so he knew very well that he had not lost the ability to walk. It was a little uncomfortable; his body was weak. He didn't have the energy to make any quick moves, but at least if he could walk…limp…heck, even 'crawl' out of that facility, he would do it. And he would make sure he did it faster than whatever was chasing him.

First of all, though, he had to attract its attention. He could still hear the noise, which now sounded much more obviously like footsteps, but it sounded fairly distant, and occasionally seemed to speed up, slow down, getting louder and then getting quieter. The creature, whatever it was, was clearly disorientated. Or maybe it was just stupid. Either way, it was definitely…

…was that a gunshot?

The footsteps stopped suddenly and it went silent for a few seconds, before he heard what he was absolutely certain was a human voice.

His heart leapt and his body froze, his mind buzzing with questions, answers, scenarios, anything that could make sense of the situation. Why now, after all this time, would another human being set foot into an abandoned facility in the middle of nowhere, where there were likely to be all sorts of disgusting, man eating creatures? And why would that person be alone? Basically, he settled on two options: Option A was that the person was coming into the facility to clear it out and to therefore kill him. Option B was that the person was coming into the facility to investigate it and to therefore save him. Either way, this was a living, breathing, thinking, feeling human being. Whether they were going to rescue him, or shoot him dead, it was better than this.

"H…hello?" his voice came out weak and raspy.

He cleared his throat, leaning forward against the bars, trying to see further into the room, but it was too dark to see any further than the other cells around his own and the opposite wall.

"Hello?!"

He paused, listening, and to his delight, and a little to his fear, the footsteps stopped briefly, and then began moving faster, getting louder and louder as the person approached the room he was trapped in. He heard the door swing open slowly. He heard the footsteps slow as they entered the room, and a bright, white light flickered across the tiles, clearly coming from a flashlight.

"I…I'm over here!"

As the person reached Steve's cell, he could faintly see, behind the halo of light being shone into his eyes, that it was a young man, probably not much older than himself, with dark blonde hair and steely grey eyes. He didn't look like a cop, or F.B.I, or anything of the sort, but he was certainly kitted out like one, with a black muscle shirt, a combat knife in a pouch on his shoulder, and several other gadgets strapped around his hips on a utility belt. What's more, held steadily underneath the flashlight was an expensive looking, high calibre pistol, the barrel perfectly aligned with Steve's forehead.

"D…don't shoot. I'm human." Steve stammered a little, gulping, holding his hands up defensively and taking a step back from the bars.

The man with the gun didn't hesitate to lower it, tucking it neatly into the holster on his thigh, shining the beam of the flashlight over Steve, around the cell, and then around the room briefly, before clipping it to a strap on his shoulder, examining the lock on the door. After looking at it for all of three seconds, the man then pulled a thin, slightly hooked piece of metal out of one of the pouches on his belt, and began twisting it in the keyhole, resting his fingertips just above, clearly concentrating.

"What's your name?"

The man's voice was fairly deep in comparison to his slightly feminine appearance, but it was calm and steady, as though he'd done this a thousand times. Steve found himself immediately reassured. He felt sure that this was someone who could help him, even though he didn't know that person's name.

"S…Steve."

The man paused, stilling the pick in the keyhole, before flicking his wrist very slightly, the lock faintly clicking and the door swinging outwards on its hinges as he stepped back out of the way, tucking the instrument back into the compartment by his hip.

"Can you walk?"

Steve paused, looking at the opening in front of him. It had been so long since he'd seen it opened, he'd almost forgotten that it was a door. He nodded slightly in reply to the man, stepping out of the cell, taking it slowly, just in case his body decided to prove him wrong. The smooth concrete of the floor that greeted the soles of his feet was a welcome change to the yellowing tiles that he'd spent the past year or so of his life living on. The sense of relief he felt was overwhelming. So much so, that he couldn't even feel the hunger anymore, nor the pain, nor that niggling fear in the back of his mind that had been with him for so long, he could barely recall what it was like to be without it. He felt like laughing. He felt like crying, and screaming and running away. Yet, at the same time, he had no clue what to do. He never thought he'd experience the feeling of stepping outside his cage again.

"How long have you been here?"

The voice near him broke his train of thought, snapping him sharply back to reality.

"Uh…"

He knew very well how long he'd been there. But now, for some reason, it felt painful to say it out loud.

"It doesn't matter." The man stopped him again, placing a firm hand on Steve's shoulder. "My name is Leon Kennedy."

The touch shocked him slightly. It felt foreign and strange. How long had it been since he'd had another person touch him in a way that wasn't negative or abusive? It was only a hand on his shoulder, and yet that small gesture felt as though it lifted such a great weight off his shoulders, that he felt light headed.

"Don't worry."

All of the worry that he'd been feeling drained away with those words.

"I'm gonna help you."

And he no longer felt afraid.

"Trust me."


	2. Chapter 2

Escaping the facility was, strangely enough, an easy feat. The man whose name he had recently discovered was 'Leon', found no trouble in picking locks, breaking windows, climbing over and under seemingly impassable obstacles, and accurately shooting down anything that got in their path. The escape was so easy and so fluid that it was mostly a blur to Steve. In fact, his brain didn't even begin to register the fact that they'd made it outside at all, until his bare feet touched the freezing metal of an outside stairwell, literally shocking him into falling back into the building.

From his position in the doorway, his mind drifted away from reality once more, as he noticed that it was lightly snowing outside. It was deathly silent. Peaceful, though. Although it was snowing, there was no wind, leaving nothing but the delicate weight of each snowdrop to pull it to the ground. It was cold, naturally, but there was something incredibly refreshing about feeling the cold air on his skin. The fact that he could feel anything at all, just made him feel alive again.

"Come on. We need to keep moving, or you're gonna freeze."

Leon's hand came suddenly into his line of sight, gripping Steve's wrist and pulling him up from the ground.

"As soon as we get back to the vehicle, we can worry about everything else. But right now, staying here is too dangerous."

Leon continued down the metal steps at a fairly quick pace, occasionally stopping to scope out his surroundings, but otherwise moving too fast for Steve to keep up with him. It was difficult enough just to walk barefoot on uneven flooring. But add on his weakened state, his mild bouts of delirium, and the fact that the grooved metal stairs felt like jagged ice under the soles of his feet, and his movement was severely limited. Noticing this, Leon quickly stopped, coming back up to the previous level and hooking Steve's arm around his own shoulders, taking a lot of his weight.

"C'mon. You can do it. It's not too far."

"That's easy for…you to say." Steve replied slowly, already getting slightly out of breath. He had never felt so utterly pathetic in his entire life.

At this, Leon seemed slightly amused, and chuckled a little, holding onto Steve's wrist by his shoulder, his other arm around the younger man's waist. He may as well have been carrying him down the stairs, but looked as though it took him no more effort than carrying a slightly heavy shoulder bag, seeming just as energetic and swift-moving as he had been before, taking two steps at a time. They reached the bottom of the stairwell within seconds, and when they did, Leon pulled himself away, leaving Steve on the bottom step, holding his arms around himself in a failed attempt to save a little body heat.

"Wait here. I'll drive around and pick you up."

And with that, he set off running, following the wall of the building, and disappeared around the corner.

Steve watched him leave with a slight feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach. What if he never came back? Outside in the current climate, he'd freeze to death within an hour or two. If he was lucky, it would be even faster than that. He tightened his arms across his chest at the thought, gripping onto the thin, slightly stained top half of the off-white medical scrubs he was wearing, watching the corner of the building where his mysterious saviour would, hopefully, shortly return.

In any case, Leon was a very strange character. He seemed so perfectly confident in everything he was doing, that it almost looked as though he'd planned it all out; as though he already knew everything that was going to happen, before it happened. Surely, no regular human being could assess what was, quite frankly, an incredibly bizarre situation, so quickly, and then know exactly what to do in lieu of said situation, down to the fact that he'd been carrying a lock pick. Sure, he seemed like some kind of 'Special Forces' guy and everything, but even so, then he'd need a gun, a flashlight and maybe a GPS, but who carries a 'lock pick' with them? And how many times has he picked locks before to be able to do it that quickly? Maybe he's a spy…maybe he actually works for Umbrella and he wasn't saving Steve at all, he was kidnapping him. Maybe he was working for some other kind of secret underground organisation and they wanted the T-Veronica virus. That would explain how he knew where to find the facility. It would also explain why he would have decided to leave as soon as he found Steve, rather than needing to gather any other kind of evidence or information. Then again…maybe Steve just had an overactive imagination. After all, Leon seemed like a really nice guy. And if he'd been trying to kidnap him, then surely he wouldn't have practically just carried him down four flights of stairs, he'd have dragged him down them by his ankles or something.

Once again, Steve's train of thought was brought to a sudden standstill as he heard the low, rumbling of an engine, and a large, shiny black snow vehicle, with caterpillar tracks larger than the average car, came slowly around the corner, pulling up by the side of the stairwell. From his position in the driver's seat, Leon leaned over and pushed open the passenger's side door.

"Get in."

Steve didn't hesitate to do as he was told, climbing across into the vehicle, while touching the snowy ground as little as humanly possible, closing the door behind him and replacing his arms around his chest in yet another feeble attempt at keeping himself warm. He was now so cold that he couldn't feel his fingers or toes, and was slowly starting to lose feeling in larger and undeniably more important limbs.

"You must be freezing. Here."

Leon leaned over into the back of the truck, which seemed to be a large storage section, pulling forward a black, weatherproof jacket and some leather gloves, and, even though he wasn't wearing either himself, he gave them freely to Steve, before returning to the back of the truck to rummage some more. Of course, Steve gladly put on any clothing he was given, struggling to pull on the gloves without the ability to move his fingers, watching Leon as he then brought forward a large, thick blanket coated with foil, wrapping it around Steve's shoulders. He didn't immediately feel warmer, but to be honest, he was having a hard time feeling anything at that point.

"You hungry?"

"Yes!"

Steve had never answered a question more quickly in his life, but his heart literally leapt at the offer of food. At that moment, he swore he'd never take a cheeseburger for granted ever again.

"Thought so." Leon nodded, rifling through the backpack in the trunk again and pulling out an energy bar, dropping it into Steve's lap. "But don't eat it all. Your stomach won't be used to it, and you could get ill, so just take it easy. You're gonna have to build up the amount that you can eat over the next few weeks. Even if you feel like you're hungry and you wanna eat more, don't. Take it slow."

Steve nodded a little, feeling disappointed, picking up the thin, rectangular foil shape in his lap and tearing open a small corner, biting a piece off, chewing it slowly and savouring it. It didn't taste very good, and the texture was slightly hard from the cold, but at that point, it was the best thing he'd ever eaten in his life. And it wasn't even the fact that it made him full, or that it tasted good, or even that it made him feel any less ill, because it didn't do any of those things. What it did do, was reassure him that this awful, painful, 'unbearable' time in his life was over. He could eat again. He could drink again. He could walk again. He could talk again, and most of all, he could live again. Even if his future looked bleak, and he had to spend the rest of his life working his ass off in some dead-end job in a thankless city that gave nothing back to him, he'd still be alive, and he'd still be free. And he could say to himself, 'I survived'.

The energy bar was bland as crap.

But victory never tasted so sweet.


	3. Chapter 3

The journey took hours. Or maybe it was days, even. Steve couldn't tell; he spent most of it asleep. He was actually incredibly uncomfortable. The pain in his stomach still periodically returned, with renewed force, giving him an unpleasant reminder of his currently poor physical status like some kind of morbid alarm. He was warm, at least, but his arms were still crossed awkwardly across his torso, his cheek rested at a twisted angle against the headrest of the seat, jolting his face against the window every time the vehicle hit a particularly uneven patch of ground…and they were driving on snow, so there were a lot of those. Under any other circumstance, he probably would have found it all pretty damn funny. But in light of recent events, it was pretty damn not.

Leon stayed quiet for the most part, clearly concentrating on the road, or lack thereof. At certain intervals when he was awake, Steve would feel the older man's hand on his shoulder, and hear something along the lines of 'Are you okay?', or, 'How are you doing?', and Steve would generally grunt or hold his hand up in reply, but that was the limit to any kind of conversation between them. It didn't feel awkward, though. Nor was there any kind of bad feeling between them. It was just…calm. The annoying thing was, honestly, that Steve did want to talk to him. He wanted to know more about his mysterious saviour. He wanted to ask him where he was from, why he was there, and where they were going. But most of all, he wanted to know what was going to happen to him when they got there. However, the rest of the journey, just as the beginning, was in silence. No matter how long he slept for, Steve felt exhausted. So much so that he couldn't even muster the energy to open his mouth and make words come out. He just wanted nothing more than a proper bed. Hell, a blanket on the floor would be fine, as long as it was indoors, and that indoors wasn't on wheels.

"We're nearly there. Just hold on a little longer. We're taking a boat, but there's a cabin below the deck. You'll be able to sleep there."

Steve looked up slowly, his neck, having been in the same twisted position for several hours, throbbing slightly in protest at the movement. He managed a little nod of his head; enough to show that he'd heard what Leon had said, but couldn't find the strength to do anything more. He felt as though his body was betraying him.

They pulled up at what looked like an old military checkpoint. The snowy ground there was scattered with gravel, flattened and compacted with years of use, and slightly covered under a sheet of freshly fallen snow. There were several buildings there, spaced close together in a square shape, leaving a makeshift courtyard in the centre, where there were some empty wooden crates stacked haphazardly in one corner, and an old, clearly unusable heavy goods vehicle, with one of the tires missing, parked behind the buildings, half covered with black tarpaulin. The buildings were clearly sturdy; meant to survive the harsh weather conditions, and were reinforced with steel plating across the walls and the rooves, and thick window shutters, but the steel was rusted and flaking. It obviously hadn't been used in a long time, and something about it was particularly unsettling. The only reassuring aspect was a small dock leading off from the courtyard, which looked like the only thing that was maintained to a usable standard. There was a small, but fairly modern looking boat moored there, and it was clear, by the way it stood out from the rest of the scenery, that it was the way Leon had travelled, and it was the way they were going to travel now.

With the vehicle parked close to the dock, Leon took no hesitation in springing back into action, pulling on a thick, dark brown jacket lined with cream fleece, not even taking the time to fasten it up, before he jumped out through the door on his side and opened the back of the truck, pulling out his backpack and dropping it onto the ground by his feet. In that time, Steve had managed, pathetically and slowly, to wrestle the recovery blanket from his body and force it down into the space by his feet. He could already hear Leon moving more things around in the back of the truck, and he was feeling pretty useless, so the least he could do was get 'himself' ready. However, he was soon reminded of the fact that he wasn't wearing any shoes, when he tried to use his foot to push open the door, and realised that his toes were a slightly blue colour, and that he couldn't feel them. At any other time, the situation would call for more serious and immediate action, despite being barefoot, but Steve was pretty damn sure that in the Antarctic, and with low blood sugar, shoeless-ness could probably kill you…or at least lose you some toes.

Once again, though, Leon, as though reading his mind, was quick to the rescue, coming around from the back of the van and opening the passenger door, dropping a thick pair of socks into Steve's lap.

"I don't have any spare shoes, but this should do for now. All you have to do is get onto the boat, okay?"

Steve nodded a little again in reply, pulling the socks on slowly, trying his best to show some kind of competence as an eighteen year old who could put his socks on by himself.

Leon was clearly an incredible person. Throughout all of this…coming to this freezing, barren wasteland, dealing with the horrors he must have seen in the facility, days of driving without sleep, working completely alone, and with no respite in knowing that it was going to be over soon…he never once showed a falter in his determination. He was completely sure of his own capabilities; unwavering. It was truly admirable. And it was this that made Steve feel like so much of a pathetic mess in front of him. If he could only show Leon what he was really like. He was strong. He knew he was smart. He could handle a gun pretty well, too. He could only hope that first impressions didn't always leave a 'lasting' impression.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You must be exhausted, and your body will be weakened by the cold, too, but you're doing really well. You should be proud of yourself."

Steve froze, taking some time to absorb the words. Here he was, thinking about how useless and pitiable he must seem, and yet Leon was actually 'praising' him. And even though he was sure that it was all just talk, it made him feel so much better, that he felt a little of his strength return. Enough to get out of the truck and stay upright, at least.

That was clearly another thing to add to the list of Leon's many talents. He was one of those people who always knew the right thing to say. In this case, it was a constant confirmation, constant recognition and constant reassurance. Whatever Steve did, Leon would praise him or tell him that it would be okay. And, well, it all had been so far, so what reason did Steve have to doubt him?

If he had been rescued by somebody else…by someone who didn't really 'care' like Leon did…would he have been able to make it at all?

Then, interrupting Steve's internal musings yet again, Leon had his arm around the boy's waist, supporting him and taking most of his weight as he helped him onto the boat in the dock, hurrying him through the door and sitting him inside on a leather coated bench beside the boat's controls and the wheel. It had taken such little time and effort, that Steve had barely noticed how cold it was outside.

"I won't be long." Leon held up a hand briefly, before hopping back across from the boat to the dock and running back to the truck.

Steve watched, slightly dumbstruck, as Leon lifted a crate almost half the size of a small car out of the back of the truck, placing it by his feet briefly to close the doors, before picking it up again and carrying it down the dock and onto the boat, placing it down in a corner of the small 'room'. Sure, it was obvious that Leon was strong, and that he'd probably gone through a lot of training, but, as male physiques go, Leon was quite slim. He certainly didn't look as though he could lift…whatever it was in the huge crate he'd just lifted.

"…Please…tell me that's…empty." Steve nodded towards the crate dubiously, and Leon simply shook his head, looking amused.

"It's just some supplies."

He then moved back out onto the dock, unfastening the rope holding the boat to it and throwing it across through the doorway, pushing the vessel further into the water with his foot, before jumping back across the widened gap, pulling the door closed behind him in the same movement. He made everything look so easy, it was fascinating to watch.

"Now, c'mon. You really need to rest. I'm gonna get you to a hospital as soon as I can, okay?" Leon pulled Steve up from the bench carefully, this time holding his arm fairly tightly around the boy's shoulders, leading him down a short set of stairs and under the deck of the ship into a dark, compact cabin.

There was a bed built into the wall at one side, with cupboards above and below, and, opposite that, a small seating area and a table. There was a kitchen, too, boasting a variety of modern appliances, despite its miniature size. It was a little claustrophobic, but everything was well spaced out and minimalistic, making it appear much more comfortable than cramped, especially to Steve.

With a little more help from Leon, Steve managed to remove the coat and the gloves he was wearing and get into the bed, feeling so warm and so relieved that the moment he was lying still, his eyelids felt so heavy with fatigue that he couldn't keep them open. He could faintly hear Leon talking, but his voice sounded too distant to understand what he was saying. He barely recalled a hand rest against his shoulder, before, for the first time in almost two years, he fell into a welcoming, dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The boat journey was the worst of Steve's fairly short life. To add to his previous ailments, he had contracted some kind of flu-like virus, and, even though he had travelled on water-borne vehicles many times before during his childhood and been fine, he'd spent the first three days of the voyage being violently sea sick.

He spent as much time as possible asleep, and except for going to the bathroom, he never moved from the bed. But it was a feverish, unyielding sleep. The kind where you can never really tell whether you're asleep or awake; a sort of semi-conscious blur of sounds and visions that he couldn't tell were dreams or reality. During times when he was assuredly awake, he never felt any less exhausted. His skin never gained back its colour, and remained deathly pale, his hair and his nails were dull and brittle, and he felt constantly lethargic, achy and nauseous. He was beginning to feel more and more mentally and physically drained as each day passed, and he felt himself weakening still, both in body and in mind. On several occasions, he had considered the possibility that he would actually die.

This was not how it was supposed to happen. He had been saved. He had been rescued. Yet, he still felt as though he was trapped. Trapped inside his own body.

However, this 'cloud', no matter how ugly and grey, had a thin, silver lining. And that was Leon. At every waking moment, Leon was by Steve's side, bringing him blankets when he was cold, taking them off him when he was hot, bringing him water and food… just generally being 'there'. And never once did he allow Steve to feel like a burden. He made his willingness to help him blatantly clear, and took every opportunity during the short times when Steve was awake to talk to him; to reassure him.

Leon had said that Steve was mal-nourished, and that his body was in shock, which explained his sudden bout of illness at the beginning of the journey, but it probably wouldn't return. He assured him that the virus, and his fever, could be caused by anything as small as the changes in temperature, because his immune system was weak and therefore open to all kinds of viruses and infections, and that he would soon recover. No matter what new symptom Steve was afflicted with, Leon would know what it was and what to do about it. He was like a human encyclopaedia…or at least a very good survivalist with a vast general knowledge. But give him a problem, and he knew the effects, the outcomes and all of the solutions. Steve knew that he could not have possibly asked for a better companion. If it weren't for Leon, he'd have surely thrown himself overboard by now.

In any case, no matter how dire his situation was, Leon's presence made it much more bearable. As much as Leon spoke to Steve, Steve would speak back. The conversations were few, and they were short, but the more time he spent talking to Leon, the better he began to feel.

On one particular occasion, when, according to Leon, they were somewhere half way between the South Pole and South America, the general temperature had risen considerably, and Steve felt comfortable sitting up without being smothered by clothing and blankets. They had been at sea for about a week. Leon was preparing dinner in the kitchen; some kind of unappetizing-looking canned soup with chunks, and they were both somewhat enjoying the other's presence in silence.

Steve had been slowly and gradually building up his appetite since the beginning of the journey, and was now able to eat a small portion of a meal without feeling ill. He was even starting to feel hungry again, which Leon had assured him was a very good sign. Not only that, he could now confidently get up and reach the bathroom by himself without his legs feeling as though they were going to collapse under him. He was starting to feel like himself again.

As he watched the back of Leon's head distractedly, he couldn't help but feel a very comfortable affection for the man. After all, he had saved his life, not once, but over the space of their time together, likely several times, and now, even though they still knew fairly little about one another, Leon cared for him like you would a close friend. Although their meeting had been unexpected and possibly, on Leon's part at least, a hindrance, there was an obvious mutual understanding between the two that there was no hostility between them. Perhaps even the knowledge that this could be a lasting friendship.

At any rate, regardless of what Leon's feelings were towards his young companion, Steve held nothing but admiration for the man. He was like an action hero from an expensive Hollywood blockbuster. No. He was like a superhero. When at first they'd met, Leon had killed several infected individuals, both animal and human, with an impossibly accurate pistol aim, picked a lock without any special equipment, climbed through a ventilation shaft to unlock a door for his injured fellow traveller, and then driven for three days in the middle of a snowstorm, without sleep. Not only that, but he was insanely strong, could apparently also drive a boat, and had enough medical and geographical knowledge to navigate his way across the Antarctic ocean, while caring for, and possibly saving the life of (for the second time), another on board. Add a dash of his modest charm, and the fact that he was…undeniably very attractive, and somewhere along the way, several of the best human genes had missed everyone else and amalgamated in one body.

That was Leon. S. Kennedy.

"You hungry?"

Once again, Leon interrupted one of Steve's many internal deliberations. It was rather ironic, actually, that every time he did interrupt one of them, that deliberation was about him. As a matter of fact, Steve spent a lot of his time thinking about Leon. Perhaps too much of it.

"Uh…yeah." He smiled to show his appreciation. Not that it was forced; he was always genuinely grateful.

Leon seemed pleased with this response, and, instead of his usual place at the small dining area, situated himself at the end of the bed by Steve's feet, handing him a hot, surprisingly good smelling bowl of the questionable soup, taking another for himself.

"So, are you feeling better today? You look a little better." He mused, watching the younger man slightly cheerfully.

"Yeah…yeah, I am." Steve nodded, unable to hold back the smile that forced itself from the corners of his lips; Leon was always energetic, but it was actually fairly rare to see him show any kind of obvious emotion.

It was nice to see him so…happy.

"Good. Well, you should eat. It'll make you feel a whole lot better once you start eating proper meals."

Leon laughed lightly when he saw Steve look at the bowl dubiously.

"It's not that bad, I promise." He chuckled as he ate a spoonful of the soup himself, as though proving a point. "It's cheap, and it lasts a long time, but it's made for long journeys like this in cold weather, so it'll give you your strength back. Plus, I just spent a good three minutes slaving over a hot stove to heat this up, and I'm gonna be offended if you don't eat it."

The younger man laughed, eating a spoonful slowly. It was thick, and hot, and actually tasted pretty good. Just the thought that he was finally able to eat a proper meal was enough to make him feel a little better in itself. Leon seemed pleased at the fact that Steve was finally eating more than energy bars and dried fruit, and watched the boy with a satisfied expression, his features much softer than their usual tense position. Leon never looked sad or angry, but his brow was always furrowed in concentration. Perhaps it was stress. His job certainly seemed like an unforgiving one, and with few rewards. Steve hoped at least that he was getting paid a lot to do it.

"So…what do you 'do', anyway? Like, are you a cop or something? You don't seem like any cop I've ever seen." Steve voiced his uncertainty. He didn't want to pry too much, though; Leon had never openly spoken about his job. Did that mean it was something secret?

Leon paused, his eyes still on Steve. The question didn't seem to be an uncomfortable one, so that was a good start, but the man took a while with his answer.

"I work for the government."

"The government?" Steve paused, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Are you a spy?"

Leon laughed again, shaking his head.

"Not exactly. I guess some parts of my job are classified, but it's not a secret. I'm on guard duty most of the time."

"Guarding who?"

"The President."

Steve paused, sure he looked as shocked as he felt.

"Are you serious? So…so, you really are a secret agent. Man, that is so cool. You're like James Bond."

Leon laughed again, nearly spitting some of his soup out, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

"That's one way to look at it, I guess. But I'm just doing my job. I'm no more special than anyone else. And for the record, I do it because I want to help people, not for money and women. And wearing a suit while doing what 'I' do, would be a little bit more than an inconvenience. I've never met the Queen of England, either."

"Bummer."

Steve ate the rest of his soup, the broth quickly warming him up. He felt a lot more energetic than he had the past few days, too, which was a great relief, but that's not to say that he felt 'well'. He just felt better.

"So, why are you here? If you're on guard duty 'most' of the time, then what about the rest? And…why did you save me? I'm pretty sure they don't send a special agent who works for the president to the middle of the Antarctic just to save one kid."

Leon looked over at him again, placing his spoon down in the empty bowl and pushing it across onto the kitchen counter.

"I saved you because you needed help. That's all there is to it. Maybe I wasn't there for that reason, but you're what my job is all about. You're why I do it in the first place. If I can save even one person, then it makes all this worthwhile."

"Then…why were you here?"

At this question, Leon paused. He looked slightly conflicted, as though he couldn't decide whether to answer or not. Steve knew that there was a lot about Leon's job he couldn't reveal, that was obvious. Plus, they had only met about ten days ago. Even if Leon wanted to tell him the answer, he couldn't properly trust him.

"Have you heard of 'Umbrella'? They ran the facility where I found you." He finally answered, his expression slightly serious. Angry, almost.

"Yeah…I've heard of them. Who hasn't?" His throat went a little dry and his chest tightened. He knew about Umbrella, alright. Not a day went by when he couldn't see that ominous, red and white octagonal logo in his subconscious mind.

"My job…was never really to be a Presidential guard. Ever since Umbrella caused the outbreak in Raccoon City, I've been working to stop that from ever happening again. Well, as you must know, Umbrella has secret facilities all over the world. Who knows how many. All I know is, they're trying to use these viruses as a form of bio-warfare, even going as far as kidnapping people to turn them into bio organic weapons and selling them on to terrorist organisations. The facility you were locked up in was the first we've discovered in about eight months, and I was dispatched just over a month ago to scope out the area and to search the facility for information. I had no idea there'd be anyone still alive in there."

"I barely was…I mean, if you hadn't come along…"

Leon cut him short.

"But I did. And you're going to recover. And I'm gonna make sure you get home safe, okay? You don't owe me anything."

Steve gulped back the lump in his throat, his eyes meeting Leon's. In the moonlight coming down the stairwell, they looked more silver than grey; menacing and slightly stern, but at the same time, so pure and sincere. His stare was intense. Almost breathtaking.

"Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

After Leon had revealed his intentions at the facility where Steve had been held, and explained his involvement with Umbrella, the two of them talked the entire night. They talked about anything and everything. However, the evening mostly consisted of storytelling and witty anecdotes, mostly on Leon's part, anyway. His life was fascinating. Steve felt dull in comparison, but still, Leon listened to Steve's vague recollection of his time on Rockfort Island, and showed both interest and concern. It turned out that both of them knew Claire Redfield, and had met her on similar occasions. Although Steve was concerned that somewhere, he still held feelings for her, he felt no rivalry with Leon. If anything, Claire's friendship only gave them a stronger connection to each other. It was another thing they had in common.

Over the course of the night, Steve realised that they had 'a lot' in common. Not only did they share similar interests and hobbies, but they had more profound links to one another. Both Steve and Leon's parents were deceased, and both of them had been caught in a bio-terrorism attack and come out as one of few survivors. That, of course, meant that there were a lot of war stories to be shared. Again, these were mostly Leon's. He sure had been through a lot. To still be the man that he was, with his mind, his body, and his heart intact, was an unimaginable feat.

Though, no matter how dark or depressing the subject matter of their conversation, Steve had not enjoyed himself so much in a very long time. To have somebody else to talk to who understands you, and who has seen the kind of things you've seen, experienced what you've been through, is one of the best feelings a human being can possibly experience. Much like a shared love or hatred can bring together two people who have never met and call them friends, Steve felt closer to Leon, that moment, than he ever had before.

However, no matter how much of his heart he was willing to expose, Steve could not bring himself to mention his own 'death', nor the preceding events that led to it. Instead, he lied. He told Leon that he'd been kidnapped by Umbrella after his escape from the prison, and that was how he had ended up in one of their laboratories. As he reached this deceitful end to his story, he felt his forearm prickle painfully under the material of his sleeve. He could still feel the virus within him, pulsing through his veins in tainted blood, trying its best to take control of his weakened body. But the mind was stronger. He would never let himself be manipulated by it again. That was the one promise he always made to himself.

The reason that he didn't tell Leon about the T-Veronica virus was simple: Leon's job…no, his whole existence, revolved around wiping out bio-terrorism and preventing B. from being created. To make a B.O.W, you had to combine a virus to either a human, plant, or animal body in order for it to grow and take over its host. Did that not then make Steve a B.O.W? Although he fought hard against the virus, and was nowhere short of taking full control over it, there was always the possibility that the virus would adapt and strengthen enough to bend him to its will. If Leon found out that Steve was a host for the T-Veronica virus…would he hate him?

In any case, it was the one thing about himself that Steve didn't mention. As long as he managed to keep the virus under control, Leon would never have to know.

Steve didn't realise how long they had been talking for, until he saw streams of sunlight coming through the small, circular windows at either side of the cabin. He knew that he still should have been resting as much as possible, but he didn't feel tired at all. The weather had been abysmal for the past week and a half, and even before that, when he had been imprisoned in Umbrella's Antarctic base, during the very brief moments when he did see the outside, it was always snowing, and usually dark. To see the sunlight after so long was an incredible feeling. Leon noticed it too, and turned to face the window by the bed where they were both sitting. Steve's line of sight was drawn from the window and back to Leon, whose eyes, in the sunlight, were glinting like pools of liquid silver, the orange-yellow glow sparking colour across the surface of his irises like fire. Steve had never even thought it possible for somebody to have eyes that colour, but there was something very beautiful about it.

Leon looked back at the younger male, smiling.

"Guess it's time to get back to work. You should be asleep."

"I'm not tired."

"You will be if you don't rest. We still have a few days left to go. You'll need your strength back for when we reach land."

"Is it okay if I come with you? I wanna see outside. I'm sick of being stuck in this little room down here while you have all the fun."

Leon laughed, getting up and stretching one of his arms, rolling his shoulder slightly and picking up a bottle of water from the table near the kitchen, unscrewing the cap.

"Sure. I could use the company."

"Can I steer the boat?"

Leon took a sip of the water, looking slightly amused, but dubious.

"Do you know how? Because I don't plan on dying before we get back to America."

"Well…no, but you can show me. Besides, I can drive, how different can it be?"

Steve wrestled himself from the blankets on the bed, getting up. Leon watched him, holding out a steadying hand.

"Hey, take it easy." He fastened the cap back on the bottle and put it down. "Just because you can drive a car, doesn't immediately give you the ability to drive any other vehicle."

"I can fly a plane." Steve said proudly, looking at him questioningly.

Leon watched him, a humoured smile still adorning his quizzical expression.

"You can fly a plane?"

"Well, not like…a jumbo jet or anything, but yeah. I'm telling the truth, I swear. My dad taught me."

"I thought your dad was a scientist."

"He was a very complex man…"

The two of them laughed simultaneously, still holding onto one another. Leon, with his hand around Steve's forearm to steady him, and Steve, holding Leon's wrist in an attempt not to collapse from the dizziness that his laughter brought about.

"Okay, c'mon. I'll show you how." Leon chuckled, moving away from his companion and skipping up the steps to the top deck, taking two at a time, staying there at the head of the stairwell and watching him. "If you can make it up these stairs on your own, without stopping, or using the railing, then I'll agree that you're well enough to steer the boat." He tapped the railing slightly with his hand. "And you're not allowed to crawl." He added, as Steve reached the foot of the steps and placed his hand on one of them.

"Aw, man." Steve straightened himself up again. "If I don't use the railing, I might fall and break my neck and die, and then that will be on your conscience."

Leon shrugged a little, still watching him.

"Guess you can't steer the boat then, or you might fall overboard and drown, and then 'that' will be on my conscience."

Steve huffed slightly, looking at the stairs. There weren't many of them, but they were narrow and steep. If he took one wrong step, or got dizzy as he was going up, he'd probably fall back down. Of course, he wouldn't be seriously hurt or anything, but bruised shins would be an unwelcome addition to his ailments.

"Whatever, I can do this." He muttered, making his way up to the top deck slowly. The light was blinding him slightly after being in the dark for so long, and having to balance on thin planks of wood on a vessel that's moving when you're slightly shaky and light headed is no easy feat, but he managed it anyway, resisting the urge to use Leon as a crutch when he reached the top.

"Okay, you win." Leon laughed quietly, heading over to the control panel of the boat.

It looked pretty straightforward. There was a steering wheel, and what else could that possibly be used for? There were some buttons on the panel labelled with symbols or abbreviations that Steve didn't understand, but with a little instruction, he was positive that he could do this, and do it well. He'd always been good at this sort of thing. He even aced his driving test the first time he took it, and the instructor commented on the fact that they didn't get very many students who did as well as Steve did. Besides, a plane was probably one of the most difficult forms of transportation to operate, and he could do that.

Leon leaned against the corner of the control panel on one hand, patting the chair in front of the steering wheel with the other, watching as Steve made himself comfortable in it, resting his hands on the wheel. It was cold, and thinner than the wheel of a car, and when he tried turning it experimentally, it was much stiffer and harder to move. Leon flicked some sort of switch on the panel, and the gentle, rumbling noise of the engine grew louder.

"Now we're up here controlling it ourselves, we can go a little faster. You can steer, and I'll take care of the rest for now. But I've got a job for you." Leon tapped a small circle of transparent plastic on the dashboard, which concealed a rather old looking compass, the needle pointing to the West. "We should to be heading North West, but only a notch to the West, so I need you to pull it further North."

Steve did as he was told, not hesitating or awaiting further instruction, twisting the steering wheel about ninety degrees to the right. Satisfyingly, he felt the boat jolt slightly under his feet, before the tip of the bow began to turn in the direction he wanted, the needle on the compass simultaneously edging its way further towards the little white 'N'.

"Good job." Leon encouraged, patting the top of Steve's back. "You're a fast learner. Guess I can trust you with this after all." There was something in his eyes that resembled pride, and Steve felt delighted at being the one to cause it.

"Piece of cake." Steve chuckled, watching the water. It was still, but for the gentle waves of foam rippling outwards from the edges of the boat. He felt the same sense of freedom then, that he had the first time he stepped out of the cage in the facility.

He spent the next three days, other than when he was sleeping, up on the top deck with Leon, who, during that time, taught him to drive the boat properly, what all of the terminology was and how all of the buttons worked. It was much simpler than Steve had imagined it to be, but he had a lot of fun all the same.

Steve had respectively built a nest on the chair behind the wheel, with a pile of blankets and cushions, and various food and drink supplies nearby. He still felt fairly ill, but he was tired of spending all of his time lying in the dark. Plus, now that he had Leon to keep him company almost 24/7, he was starting to feel better much faster. Leon seemed a lot happier, too.

In fact, Steve didn't remember ever being as happy in another person's company as he was in Leon's. He'd had close friends before, of course, but none of them even came close to this. He supposed that this was what it felt like to have an older brother…no…that's not what it was…

And then it hit him…

…He had a crush on Leon.


	6. Chapter 6

It was definitely a crush.

A stupid, girly, heart fluttering, laughing at Leon's unfunny jokes kind of crush. Of course, Steve had had crushes before; plenty of them. But those were completely different. Those were female celebrities…those were FHM's one hundred sexiest women…those were girls from his high school chemistry class. As far as he could remember, he'd never had a proper crush on a guy before. He'd found them attractive, sure, but never like this. Then again…none of them were Leon.

Of course, at first, he just assumed that it was the regular 'you saved my life', kind of dilemma, and that he'd get over it in a day or two. It's obvious that anyone with a heart would develop 'some' kind of feelings towards the person who saved their life. But he had quickly noticed that it was much more than that. Most obviously, his inability to find a single flaw in the perfect being that was Leon. Anything that could be considered a flaw would be processed in Steve's brain as a good thing. Leon's unfunny jokes were charmingly dorky. His serious nature was nothing but determination. His secrecy made him all the more mysteriously attractive.

And attractive he certainly was…especially to Steve. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he hadn't seen another human being in almost a year, but Steve found it very difficult not to get distracted watching the older male as they were sitting side by side. The way his eyes reflected any kind of light that hit them. The way the very ends of his hair at the front curled ever so slightly inwards, framing his face. The way that, even with all he must have been through because of his job and his fast-paced lifestyle, his skin remained perfectly unblemished. He didn't even have any scars. There were no telltale signs at all towards what he was involved in; perhaps he wanted it that way. Either way, whether it was his personality, his profession, or his appearance, Steve couldn't think of a single imperfection. Leon was nothing short of the ideal being.

In light of that, Steve's main concern towards his 'crush' was that no matter how much he wanted it…it was completely unattainable.

In anyone's eyes, Leon was way out of his league. Other than that, he could probably take his pick of the female population…and probably a good percentage of its male alternative. Out of all of his options, what chance was there that he'd ever be attracted to somebody like Steve? He hadn't even reached his twentieth birthday. By many standards, including several laws, he wasn't yet an adult. He didn't have a job, either, and he'd never had the chance to go to college. He hadn't even finished high school before he wound up in prison. Other than that, he now had an incurable, deadly virus, which could, if it took over his body again, mutate him into a homicidal monster. If Steve ever found someone willing to put up with him for the rest of their lives, it would be nothing short of a miracle. And he didn't blame them. His life was a mess.

He didn't feel upset by the fact that it would never be anything more than a crush, though. It was just that: a crush; it would probably pass soon. However, there was some part of him that felt as though he didn't want to let go. What was going to happen when they got back to America? Would they go their separate ways? Steve was nineteen already; he didn't need anyone to take care of him. Maybe that would be the end of their far too brief encounter. If so, then he'd probably never see Leon again. That was the thing that really upset him. He didn't want it to end. The thought alone made him feel sick.

But everything has an end.

They reached the port of a place called Ushuaia within the next couple of days. It was situated at the very end of South America, in Argentina and, according to Leon, was a very popular tourist location. It was obvious why, though. Like any typical holiday resort, the sun was shining, but it wasn't hot, the trees and grass were lush and green, and there was a bustling harbour overflowing with little fishing boats, luxury cruisers and every kind of vessel in between. From the boat, as it approached the shore, Steve could clearly see the town's picturesque mountainous backdrop, each peak scattered with clean, white snow. It was a very lively and beautiful place, but it was quiet, and regardless of the number of waterborne vessels docked there, the sea was still, reflecting the surroundings like a liquid mirror. It really did look just like a picture on a postcard.

Once Leon had docked the boat, they took a few supplies with them and headed out into the town. It was strange for Steve, seeing so many people after such a long time in isolation. Usually, this kind of bustling, city scene would be completely normal to him; he wouldn't even think about it. But today, it was all a rather bizarre experience. He felt like an outsider.

"You'll get used to it." Leon stated, looking forward in the direction they were walking, rather than at Steve. "You probably feel pretty disorientated right now, but once you've settled back into a regular lifestyle, you'll be fine."

Steve nodded, watching his feet as they walked. It was then that he realised he still wasn't wearing shoes. A few people gave them strange looks as they passed shops, houses, and market stalls, but they never attempted to make conversation. They probably just thought that Steve was some kind of homeless delinquent. He was still pretty dirty, his hair hadn't been cut or washed in a long time, other than briefly over a sink, and his clothes were old, ripped and stained. At that point, he just wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a proper bed. Then he could start to think about everything else.

In any case, they certainly must have looked like an odd pair.

They stopped at a hotel a short way from the dock. It was big, and there were a lot of floors, but it was neither shabby nor luxurious. It was just…normal. The lobby was large and fairly minimalistic, with some plush couches dotted about and a slightly faded blue rug running across the centre of the wooden floor. Steve was glad for that. If it had been expensive, he would've only felt more out of place.

Leon spent a short while talking to the receptionist at the desk, while Steve kept his distance. He didn't want to cause any trouble or suspicion, and with the way he looked at the moment, he'd probably initiate both. In which case, he stayed in the shadows of the corner by the door, hoping not to draw any attention to himself, before Leon motioned to him with his hand, stepping into the elevator at the back of the lobby, and, when Steve stepped into it, pressing the button for the fourth floor.

"I managed to get an extra room, so you've got your own. It's right next door to mine, though, so you know where I am if you need me."

"Okay…you didn't have to pay too much because of me, right?"

"I'm not paying for it. The people I work for already have it all sorted. I told them about you just after I found you, so they know you're with me."

"Oh."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. You just relax and try to enjoy yourself. Think of it as a free holiday." He chuckled a little, stepping out of the elevator when it reached the right floor, dropping a small key on a chain into Steve's hand. "You're in 406. And I'm 407. I'm gonna head out for a while to meet up with a contact. You just take it easy until then. Oh, and try to get yourself some new clothes." At this, Leon pushed a folded stack of notes into Steve's hand with the key. "Just don't wander too far, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks…" Steve nodded, turning the key in the lock of room 406, watching Leon disappear into the next room, before going in and closing the door behind him, leaning against it for while.

The room was fairly small, but it was clean. The walls, curtains, and bedding were white, and the floor was made of the same dark, matte wood as the lobby. The bed was pushed against the back wall next to a small dresser and a closet, but other than that, the room was empty. It had a little bathroom opposite the foot of the bed, and there was another door beside the window, leading onto a tiny balcony, which overlooked the narrow street below.

Steve placed the key on the dresser, along with the money Leon had given him, feeling a little guilty. Once they got back to America, and Steve was back on his feet again, he'd find a way to pay him back for sure.

The first thing he decided to do was take a shower. The water wasn't very hot, and the spray was quite weak, but at that point, it was the best shower he had ever taken in his entire life. He never realised how much he had missed being clean. As he scrubbed almost a year worth of accumulated grime from his skin, and washed a similar amount of what was probably dust from his hair, he felt a great sense of relief. It was as though he was washing away a lot more than physical dirt, but the memory of everything that had happened to him up until this point. He could now start afresh. This was the beginning of his new life.

Once he had finished showering, he had no option but to re-dress himself in the old, dirty clothes he'd been wearing for so long now he couldn't remember when he'd first put them on. He would probably still look strange walking around the town wearing them, but at least he was clean now, and looked less like a homeless drug addict. He still wasn't wearing any shoes, and that was the worst thing, really. The weather was fairly bitter, despite the sun, so his feet were probably going to be cold.

Luckily, there was a large market close to the hotel, with several little stalls dotted all the way along to the docks. He located one that was selling clothes as quickly as he could, and bought a pair of jeans and an emerald green, hooded sweater, purchasing some black, lace-up boots in another stall close to the first. He also managed to find himself some underwear and socks at what looked like a camping stall, filled with batteries, flashlights, bottled water and gloves. He was eager to get changed into some new clothes, so he commandeered a nearby bathroom stall and swapped his old medical scrubs for his new attire, stuffing the scrubs into a garbage can. If he never saw them again, it would be too soon. In fact, if he could have lit them on fire and ritually danced around them, he would have, but he had a feeling that would draw some unwanted attention.

He felt a lot better, but he still had some money left over, so he wandered around the stalls for a while, and then across the docks, and then back through the town. It was a fairly busy shopping district thanks to tourism, so he spent a lot of time window shopping. He'd never actually done that before; it seemed like more of a female thing, but, as he had nothing else to do and he was, frankly, still just happy to be alive, he really enjoyed himself. He happened upon a small, fairly old looking hair salon, with a very happy looking old lady working there. She cut his hair for him and spoke to him in broken English about her three sons and their many and varied adventures around South America. Apparently, Steve reminded her of her youngest son, who lived in Chile with his wife and two daughters, and once she'd cut his hair for him, she held his cheeks and pulled him down to kiss him on the forehead, then refused to take the money he offered to her. He left the salon feeling very melancholy. He was pleased, of course, to have been able to bring happiness to a lonely old woman, but the encounter had only served to remind him of his own solitude, and the family he would never be able to see again.

He had decided it best not to think about the past. It was just that: the past. So, he quickly shook the thoughts from his mind, focussing instead on his current situation. It was getting slightly dark, and the people on the streets were slowly starting to filter back into their homes, hotels, or vehicles. Wherever they came from, they all had somewhere to go. Maybe Steve didn't…but that didn't matter. He was alive and he was free. He could go wherever he wanted to.

On his way back to the hotel, he bought some hot chocolate in a small, paper cup, holding it between both palms to warm them. It was slightly weak tasting, and sickly sweet, but he thoroughly enjoyed it. He walked slowly, watching the sun set out across the ocean, sinking into the sea and leaving in its wake, a mixture of red, orange and purple light smeared across the sky and reflected on the surface of the water.

It took him a while, therefore, to notice Leon waiting outside the hotel, holding a large, white paper bag in his arms. He was wearing the same brown and fleece jacket that Steve had seen him wearing several times before, and he was smiling.

"Well, don't you clean up nice? It's hard to believe there was anyone under all that dirt, but it turns out you're good looking, too." He laughed, watching the younger male approach him.

Steve shook his head, sniggering a little and finishing the hot chocolate, finding it very difficult not to feel pleased about the comment.

"I'm sorry, that was a really mom-ish thing to say, wasn't it?" Leon chuckled, shaking his head. "I swear I'm not as old as I make myself sound sometimes." He held up the white bag. "Anyway, I hope you're hungry, because I bought dinner. It's Chinese."

Steve raised his eyebrows, amused.

"We're in South America, and you bought Chinese food? Where did you even 'find' Chinese food?"

"This here is a physical representation of many of the things that are wrong with the world." Leon tapped the bag with his finger. "But what is wrong with the world is sometimes delicious. Besides, I kill zombies and stop terrorists, I can't solve everything." He laughed, tucking the bag under his arm as they went back into the hotel.

There was no one at the reception desk, and the lobby was empty, but there was a very cosy looking fireplace in one corner of the room, which was burning heartily, lighting the nearby seated area with a warm, welcoming glow. They situated themselves there, Leon on an armchair, and Steve on one of the plush, white couches, with the contents of the paper bag spread out on the table between them. Leon had bought quite a lot of food, so there was a very varied array to choose from, and Steve ate it slowly, savouring every bite as though it was his last meal. He hadn't enjoyed take-out food so much in his life.

"We'll be heading back to America tomorrow evening." Leon crossed one leg over the other as he finished a mouthful of rice. "Would've taken more time, but seeing as you're a lot better, we can travel sooner. Anyway, tomorrow, I'm just gonna be taking a well earned break until we have to go to the airport, so I suggest you do the same. We should go sightseeing or something. It's a beautiful place."

Steve nodded in agreement, licking his fingers.

"Sure."

There was a woman at the reception desk now, and she'd been there for a while. She was slightly younger and more attractive than the woman who'd been there when they checked in. She looked happier too, occasionally looking over at them and smiling to herself. The people in the area all seemed to be like that; friendly and welcoming. Of course, it was natural that they'd usher the tourists in with open arms; without them, the town wouldn't even be half the size, and would probably be more of a tiny, rural place. It just had that kind of feel to it.

Steve spent a good hour longer, at least, sitting in the lobby by the fire, talking to Leon. It was about ten thirty by the time the both retreated to their hotel rooms, and the town outside was silent and still. The slightly moonlit darkness of Steve's room was more inviting than he'd imagined a tiny, dark room could be, and after he'd tucked his new clothes into the top drawer of the dresser near the bed, he curled up under the sheets and fell easily to sleep.

For the first time since he'd been at home with his parents…a normal, naïve, carefree teenager, he fell asleep looking forward to tomorrow. He didn't feel afraid, or lost, or alone.

He had hope.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve awoke during the very early hours of the morning, feeling relaxed, but no longer tired at all.

It was still dark enough that he was able to roughly estimate the time, but there was a soft, narrow stream of moonlight breaking through a gap in the curtains, lighting the room just enough for him to see, giving the white sheets and the identically matched curtains a soft, blue-ish glow.

He must have been tossing and turning a lot in his sleep, because the sheets were tucked and wrapped around his body in various places, trapping him in place, so he shortly pulled them away from himself and pushed them back, climbing out of the bed. The wooden floor was cold under the soles of his feet, but it was nothing more than refreshing. Slightly groggily, he reached down onto the dresser, feeling his fingertips across it briefly, before catching his index finger on the thin, silver chain and hooking the room key up to his eye level, the clean, silver plating glittering slightly as it swayed back and forth between darkness and moonlight.

Stretching slightly, he made his way over to the curtain and pushed it back away from the glass, balcony door, the material sweeping across the floor and blowing a slightly icy draught across his feet. He rested his hand against the top windowpane of the door gently, looking out onto the street. It was completely still outside, and the lights in all of the other buildings had been extinguished but for a few rustic-looking lanterns hanging outside shop windows, illuminating the way for late night travellers. His breath caught on the glass slightly, steaming up a small, circular patch of the clean panel, indicating the outside temperature.

Still, he didn't feel discouraged by cold weather. He actually preferred it to the heat. So he unlocked the door and pushed it open, immediately hit with a rush of cold air. It wasn't windy at all, but it was that still, skin-stingingly icy kind of weather. As he stepped out onto the balcony, he held his arms across his chest, protecting his bare skin a little from the chill. Needless to say, it didn't help. Considering the fact that he was only wearing his underwear, there was a lot of bare skin that could be chilled.

Now that he was outside, though, he could really appreciate the peace. It was dead silent. There were no crickets chirping, or distant bird calls, or lightly echoing footsteps from further into the town. It was just…tranquil; motionless. It almost felt as though time had stopped completely. He even found himself stretching to look around the nearby houses, searching for signs of life.

That was when he noticed the adjacent balcony. There was nobody standing there, and it was empty just like his own, but through the glass panels of the door, where the curtains were pushed slightly aside, he could clearly see the bed inside the room, where Leon was lying asleep.

The subtle light of the moon streaming through the opening of the drapes had just reached the foot of the bed, shedding light on the concealed form that was probably Leon's legs. The sheets were messed up slightly around his body and pushed back just a little from his torso, revealing the top of his chest and his arms, one of which was rested across his stomach, the other propped up languidly against the pillow beside his head, as though he'd fallen asleep with his hand in his hair. He looked so…peaceful.

However, there was a tiny, barely noticeable glimmer of light highlighting the dampness of Leon's bottom lip that made Steve's chest tighten when it caught his eye. He couldn't help but immediately focus his attention there, on lips that were slightly parted, on the soft, rhythmic rising and falling of the older man's chest, on the dirty blonde hair, tousled gently across one of his cheeks. Steve felt his body ache in reaction to his own thoughts, and goose bumps, which, despite the cold, weren't there before, spread across his skin.

He was sure that no one else had ever made him feel like this before. Of course, many times over, he'd fantasised about beautiful women, but this was different. This was a real person…who he was really friends with…who was so close within his reach…just the next room over…

He stopped himself mid-thought and quickly retreated back into his room, shutting and re-locking the balcony door, staying beside it briefly, leaning his hands against the glass, trying to distract his thoughts elsewhere. But it was worthless. The image of Leon stuck in his mind, as though taunting him. His flawless, lightly tanned skin…his perfectly sculpted jaw…hair that could be messed up a multitude of ways…and his lips. God. They looked so soft…so enticing…so deliciously…wet.

Steve's heated breath had clouded up a large portion of the glass he was leaning against, but he took no time to register it, his back hitting the bed within seconds. He rested his hands over his face lightly, the cold skin of his palms providing little relief to the heated skin of his cheeks. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, breaking through the silence in the room like an alarm.

Staying that way for a short while to calm his quickening pulse, he shifted his hands from his face and brushed his fingertips across his collarbone lightly, before pressing his thumb gently against his skin and stroking it down the line of muscle running across the centre of his chest, feeling his nipples harden, and other parts of him quickly following suit. It was a very long time since he'd been this aroused. In fact, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a thought that was even remotely sexual, but the way his body reacted to even the lightest touch of the tips of his fingers proved that it had been far 'too' long.

He leaned his head to one side, resting his cheek against the pillow behind his head, causing some of his hair to shift and tickle the nape of his neck. His mind quickly wandered and he closed his eyes as he slid the palm of his hand and his fingers down across the skin of his chest and his stomach, imaging that it was somebody else's hair brushing against his neck…hot breath against his cheek…someone else's hand exploring his body. It didn't matter who it was…

…but the only person he could picture was Leon.

He felt his skin heat feverishly as the faceless, nameless character of his imagination gained not only a face and a name, but a personality. He felt his thighs shudder slightly at the thought of having the older man pressed between them, tender, experienced hands teasing and playing with his body in a way he could never achieve himself.

The whole time, he kept his hand above the waistline of his underwear, stroking, brushing and gripping his fingers into the sensitive skin at the top of his groin, so sweetly torturing himself until he felt the area between his thighs throb almost painfully, his soft, heated breath breaking through the silence of the room in short and excited gasps, his toes curled into the tangled sheets of the bed.

He gulped slightly in anticipation as his fingers felt their way across the thin, elastic material of the waistband of his boxer briefs, slipping underneath it briefly and following the pronounced contour of his hip, before retreating again just as quickly, causing his body to ache again in protest. He moved his hand, instead, over the top of the material, skimming the tip of his index finger over a particularly sensitive area, where the fabric was damp and sticking to him, contrasting sharply with the heat of his skin. His hips twitched and his breath caught in his throat at the sudden sensation, and he began to rub his fingertip in slow circles just there, feeling slightly overwhelmed, even by such a gentle and drawn out movement. His body quickly objected to the painfully lacking speed of his attention to it, his groin throbbing again slightly desperately.

He held out for as long as he could, before he felt as though he would actually pass out from the blissfully agonising repression, not hesitating for his hand to find its way into the restrictive garment, the cold, slightly damp skin of his palm meeting much softer, hot flesh, his hips bucking reactively. As he tightened his fingers and started to move his hand slowly, he felt his stomach muscles tauten and his nerves sting as pleasure rippled through his body along with the rhythmic movement. He couldn't remember it ever feeling this good before.

In light of that, it didn't take long before he felt a familiar, growing pressure deep in the pit of his abdomen, his thighs quivering faintly with the effort of keeping his hips still, forcing himself to slow his actions and draw out the sensation for as long as he could possibly endure. Leon's face remained fixed in his imagination, behind the darkness of his lidded eyes, steel-grey irises fixed onto him passionately, and that soft, ever so slightly husky voice breathing lustful profanities into his ear, quickly bringing him over the edge with a sharp jolt of his hips.

Steve felt a recognisably warm, wet sensation across the palm of his hand, staying motionless for several minutes in the darkness before his breath had caught back its natural, steady rhythm. Moving his hand away slowly, he pushed himself up on his other arm and glanced over to the balcony door, where there was a small, faint, slightly mouth shaped smear. He felt a brief pang of guilt for his actions that night, and a hint of remorse, but none of those feelings could overwhelm the way his heart ached knowing that he could never have what he really…really wanted.

And that was Leon.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve was woken up quite late the next morning by somebody knocking on his door, the sound reverberating irritatingly around the walls of the slightly empty room. He rolled onto his stomach and slid his arms under the pillow, burying his face into the warm material and pulling it up over his ears slightly, almost drifting straight back to sleep, before he heard a familiar voice calling his name. He didn't sound angry though; there was a light hearted cheerfulness in his voice. How he was always so energetic, Steve had no clue.

"Hey, get up! You do know that it's almost eleven thirty, right? C'mon! We have some sight-seeing to do and not a lot of time to do it."

The knocking had stopped, and it went silent, but Steve was sure that Leon was waiting outside his door, so he tore himself away from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, stopping in front of the sink as he met his reflection in the mirror.

It was a long time since he'd seen himself. Of course, he'd never had need to. It was all rather odd, really. He knew that he was looking at himself, and he didn't really look any different than he had looked about three years ago, but the person looking back at him almost appeared to be a stranger. His hair was the same length and style since it had been cut, but it was slightly darker…duller. Probably due to the very same reason that his skin was paler, and his collarbone, his ribs, and his hips were much more prominent than they used to be. Firm, toned muscle had slowly wasted away from months of starvation, leaving a much thinner, slightly sickly looking body behind. He couldn't help but feel a niggling sense of self-deprecation, and more than a little depressed.

However, the most noticeable difference, by far, even though they were exactly the same, was his eyes. They were pale, bluish-green, just as they had been before…but there was some kind of deep, sheltered anguish hidden within them. A mixture of pain, loneliness and regret that he knew well would be difficult to resolve. There was no bright, youthful glimmer in his eye like there used to be. It was just an empty gaze.

Drawing his eyesight away from the mirror, slightly nauseated, he cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed the cold water over his face, brushing his hair back with his fingers, slightly disturbing the small, silver hoop pierced through his left ear. He held it between his index finger and thumb gently, examining the accessory fondly.

He'd been fifteen when he'd had it done…slightly younger than he should have been allowed. One of his friends, a little older than Steve at the time, had pierced it for him with a sewing needle and some ice, without the permission or knowledge of either of their parents. It bled a lot, and it hurt more than it probably should have, but it was one of the most notable quirks of his younger teenage years. When Steve's parents first saw it, his father scolded him, and his mother spent a long time worriedly cleaning it with rubbing alcohol over the kitchen sink as she shook her head and lectured him about personal safety and responsibility.

The hoop that he was wearing now was the same one that his mother had bought him for his sixteenth birthday. Now, the delicate, silver plating was slightly tarnished and scarred, and the surface felt oddly rough under the tips of his fingers. It was almost as though everything else he owned had begun to deteriorate along with his body. He wanted to take the piercing out, but couldn't bring himself even to touch the fastening at the back of his ear.

It was the only thing he had left connecting him to his mother.

"You okay in there?"

He heard Leon's voice again, muffled slightly as though close by the door, and he looked back to the bedroom quickly.

"Uh, yeah! I'm just getting dressed!"

"Well hurry it up. What are you, a woman?"

The older man laughed in response to his own joke, and Steve couldn't help but let out a chuckle himself, tidying his hair briefly with his fingers and heading back into the bedroom, grabbing his clothes from the dresser, taking a few seconds to tidy the bed as best he could once he was dressed. To be honest, his attempt at 'tidying' was very lacking. He'd never been good at anything even vaguely domestic, and therefore the bed still looked as though a crowd of people had just passed through and trampled over it, but he decided that it was best not to waste any more of Leon's time, and hurried out into the corridor to meet him.

Leon looked perfectly groomed and flawless as usual, not a hair out of place, and his cheeks were very lightly flushed as though he'd already been outside.

"How long have you been up?" Steve questioned curiously, still feeling a little groggy.

"Three to four hours longer than you have." Leon chuckled, motioning to the boy with his hand. "C'mon, we're checking out now. Have you got everything?"

"Uh…" Steve looked down at his body. "I'm wearing clothes, so yeah."

Leon shook his head a little, glancing past Steve into the room.

"Was there an earthquake on your side of the hotel?"

Steve shrugged lazily in response, holding his hands up slightly defensively.

"What? I made the bed."

"In the middle of a tornado?"

"Give me a break."

Leon laughed, leaning over and pulling the door closed.

"It doesn't matter, let's just head out. I have plans for today."

"What kind of plans?"

"Plans that you're probably not going to like, but I don't care because I'm paying for your food and the clothes that you're wearing." He nodded as they took the elevator back down to the lobby, turning the room keys in to the receptionist.

Steve just followed him obediently, not really caring whether he would like Leon's plans or not. As long as they got to spend time together, he was happy.

When they were out in the town, Leon bought Steve some kind of sugary, jam-filled pastry and a cup of the hot chocolate he had so thoroughly enjoyed the night before, purchasing another for himself. Considering the fact that it was still bitterly cold outside, and the snow on the mountain peaks in the distance seemed much thicker and more widely spread than it had been before, a hot drink and comfort food were very much appreciated. While they were still within the market district, Leon insisted on buying Steve some gloves and a jacket. Both were black, with grey felt lining, and rather expensive, but Leon refused to change his mind on the offer, and threatened to force the clothing onto Steve's body himself had the boy not accepted the gift.

Steve couldn't possibly say that he wasn't glad for it, though. The jacket was so warm and softly lined, that he couldn't even feel the cold anymore, and found it much easier to enjoy being outside in the open air. And Leon never once looked as though he was being pressured by the amount of money he'd had to spend, just remaining his usual cool and collected self, practically beaming when he vocally noted that Steve was beginning to get some colour back into his cheeks. The comment made Steve feel very glad that he hadn't been able to see himself the way he must have looked when Leon first found him, if his current state was anything to go by. He must have been such a tragic sight.

"So where are we going?" Steve asked casually through the cloud of steam rising from the polystyrene cup he was holding close to his lips.

"We're going for a walk around the mountains. I asked one of the locals, and apparently it's a really good hiking area. A lot of beautiful scenery. Plus, it will be good for you to start building some muscle."

Steve paused, mulling it over in his mind as he sipped his drink. Walking was never, ever a good thing in his mind. Who ever invented 'walking' for 'fun'? Those two things did not fit together in the same sentence. Then again, he had to agree that it was a magnificent place. Getting to tour the mountains seemed, undoubtedly, a little bit of an exciting prospect. Plus, of course, there was the most important factor: he would be doing it with Leon. Come to think of it, wasn't walking generally a romantic activity to share with someone? Especially in such a scenic area. Clearly, that was far from Leon's intention, but Steve felt vaguely honoured at the opportunity. He wondered how many young women would kill to be in his place.

"So, do you think you're up for it? We can walk slowly." Leon asked, watching the boy as they walked side by side down a tiny pathway between the houses.

Pretty soon, the pathway opened out onto vast, lush countryside. The sides of the path were now lined with deep green, dewy grass rather than buildings, and the mountains stood proudly ahead, standing out on the open skyline magnificently.

"Yeah. Sounds fun." Steve nodded, shooting Leon a slightly timid smile.

He wasn't nervous; that was far beyond his open and talkative personality, but considering the events of the previous night, Steve felt a little guilty. Leon had shown him nothing but kindness and companionship since the very beginning, and Steve almost felt as though he had betrayed their friendship. If Leon knew the way the younger male thought about him…well, considering that it was Leon, he'd probably take it all in his stride and wouldn't take offense. That didn't mean, though, that their relationship would still be the same afterwards. In any case, Steve felt more cautious talking to him than he had before. There was a niggling worry in the back of his mind that if he let loose, he'd say too much and let something slip.

Therefore, he let Leon do most of the talking, as they trekked through the slightly overgrown grass towards a dense gathering of trees at the foot of one of the mountain paths, only speaking when he felt it was necessary.

He enjoyed it though; just listening. Leon seemed so happy and buoyant when he was talking about his many and varied expeditions through foreign lands, that the little grey 'cloud' that had been hanging metaphorically over Steve's head since that morning was quickly forgotten. Needless to say, Leon had been to a fair few places during his career and beforehand, and he seemed to be a great fan of the outdoors; a real 'sleeping under the stars', survivalist type. It was made pretty obvious by his ridiculous stamina. Once they'd been walking for about a mile and a half, Steve was breathless. Even at the peak of his health, he'd have been complaining about wanting to take a break. Leon, on the other hand, seemed as fresh and steady as he had at the beginning of their journey, and frequently commented on how nice it was to be able to take a break like that. Steve could relate to it a little, though. He wasn't as enthusiastic about it as Leon seemed to be, but he did enjoy getting his hands dirty every now and then.

"Tired already? C'mon, we just got to the good part." Leon chuckled, motioning with his thumb to the mountains over his shoulder, while walking backwards so that he could face the younger male, who was lagging a short way behind him.

"Can we just walk a little slower?"

Leon paused, waiting for Steve to catch up to him, before settling into walking at his companion's pace, watching him with slight concern.

"Are you okay? We can stop if you want."

"No…" Steve shook his head quickly, "I'm fine…just a little out of breath."

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"…I want to."

Leon stopped, holding his hands on the boy's shoulders to halt him, too.

"I knew it. You don't want to, do you? You're just doing this because I want to."

"…No."

"Yes, you are." Leon nodded, sighing, "I'm sorry, I was being selfish. You're still not up for this. Maybe you should have stayed at the hotel or…"

"But I want to be with you." Steve cut him short, the words coming out of his mouth before

he had even registered them in his brain.

Leon paused, still watching him, showing nothing revealing in his expression. Steve stayed silent too, not meeting his eyes, before deciding to rectify the situation himself. He could at least attempt to make it sound less cheesy and girlish.

"I mean…I like spending time with you. I don't want to stay by myself."

Well, at least he didn't have to lie.

Leon lowered his hands from Steve's shoulders, still silent for a while, before a smile settled on his lips, and he made a slightly pleased-sounding outtake of breath.

"Well, we can walk slowly. How about that?"

Steve returned the smile, nodding approvingly, his heart fluttering slightly in his chest, taking his breath for a second.

…Perhaps it was…a little more than a crush.


	9. Chapter 9

They spent the afternoon, and a good percentage of the evening, walking slowly across the mountainside. They couldn't climb up to a very high altitude, given that they didn't even have enough time, let alone the right equipment, but from the height that they'd been walking at, the view of the surrounding area was incredible.

They had to stop a few times on the way for Steve to catch his breath and rest, so for a while, at the highest point of their journey, they sat on the grass at the edge of the cliff and watched the sun set as the sky faded to rich, dark blue. Neither of them spoke at this point, but it was a pleasant, mutual silence, as they simply enjoyed both the solar display and one another's company.

Three weeks they had been together, and during that time, Steve had seen Leon every hour of every day during the time when he wasn't asleep. He was beginning to forget what his life had been like without him. All he could recall were anguished feelings of pain and loneliness…destitution. Before that, his life was fine. That was all it was…just okay. It was almost as though he'd been asleep; living through a lifeless mixture of dreams and nightmares. Now he was awake. He was living. And it was all thanks to Leon; one stranger who had held out a hand to someone who needed help. Sure, it was his job. That didn't mean, though, that he'd had to keep Steve with him all this time, to care for him when he was sick, to teach him how to drive a boat, to bring him along during his free time, to feed him and clothe him and provide him with somewhere to sleep. He didn't have to do any of those things. But he did them 'gladly'.

They returned from the countryside and back down into the town at around seven in the evening, and ate dinner at a quaint, but homely-looking restaurant. The waitresses there were all fairly plump and motherly, and surrounded the table where the two men were sitting almost as soon as they'd taken their seats. They seemed particularly interested in Steve, and took every given opportunity to pinch one of his cheeks playfully or stroke his hair. During such instances, Leon simply watched in amusement, and spoke amiably to the women in what sounded like very good, but very American-sounding Spanish, often translating to Steve what they were saying, but occasionally getting far too engrossed into a conversation with them and leaving the younger male to watch them blankly as they did so. Steve had never really learned any Spanish during school. It had been made available, but he was much more interested in French, and had become quite skilled at the art. It was one of the few classes he'd ever taken a keen interest in.

In any case, he had to have Leon help him translate the menu, and ended up ordering some kind of inoffensive sounding pasta dish, which seemed like the safest option. Leon ordered something similar, and several side dishes, insisting that Steve try some of the local cuisine while he had the opportunity. It was all very spicy, and herby, and tomato-y, but it was delicious. Steve had always been a big fan of Mexican food, so the flavours suited his taste.

At around nine, they left the restaurant, much to the dismay of the lovely Hispanic waitresses, and took a taxi to the airport. Given that it was a small area, the airport wasn't very busy; not like Steve had been used to when he'd ever been to an airport in America. It was around ten thirty when they arrived, and the majority of the passengers there were either silently going about their business, or huddled together in groups on the plastic benches, talking quietly.

Leon took them through all of the procedures quickly and efficiently, never being stopped, never unaware of where they were going or what to do. Naturally, Steve didn't have a passport, or any other form of documentation, but Leon assured the boy that it was all taken care of, and that was that. Steve didn't question what 'taken care of' exactly entailed. Of course, he was curious, but he had decided early on that Leon's job was none of his business unless he decided to tell Steve about it himself without being coaxed. He rarely brought it up in conversation, though, so Steve was still fairly in the dark about what it was Leon really 'did' on a run of the mill day at the metaphorical office.

They ended up spending a lot of time sitting around waiting, at a small coffee shop close to the terminal where they were to board their plane when it landed. Steve noticed that Leon took his coffee black, without sugar. He seemed to drink coffee wherever they were, whether it was on the boat, at the hotel, or ordering it at a restaurant or café. Although it seemed a lot more like an energy boosting tactic rather than some kind of crazy caffeine addiction. Given the fact that Leon didn't seem to sleep very much or very often, he probably needed it.

When it finally reached midnight, and their plane had landed and was being prepared for its next load of passengers, Leon handed Steve his ticket and smiled at him resolutely.

"Should be home soon."

That was all he said, and the younger male nodded slightly tiredly in reply, but deep in his gut he felt terrified of those words.

What was his 'home'? Where? He had no 'home' to go back to. As far as Steve was concerned, being in America didn't count as being at 'home' if you were living on the streets; if you had nothing, and no one, and no hope left. So where was home? People were always saying that home was wherever your family was…or your friends…your lover. Steve didn't have any of those things anymore.

He didn't say any of that, though. He just obediently agreed, because he knew that that was what Leon wanted to see.

Once they had boarded the plane, they took their seats near the back, Steve beside the window, and Leon sitting beside the aisle. The plane was fairly empty, and quiet, and regardless of the fact that the seats were narrow and had very little foot room, they were comfortable and the cabin was warm, and Steve immediately felt the weight of fatigue on his shoulders.

Once the passengers had all boarded, and the doors were securely closed, the hosts and hostesses began their repetitive safety routine of lifejackets and pointing at doors, as Steve tried drowsily to keep his eyes open and pay attention. Once the attendants had retreated into the front of the plane, Steve removed his gloves and his coat, watching Leon as they were shortly taken from him and stowed into the overhead compartment neatly with Leon's own.

"Do you want anything?" Leon asked quietly from the aisle, leaning down closer to his companion and keeping his voice low in respect to other passengers in the cabin, some of whom were already sleeping.

Assuming that he meant food or drink, Steve shook his head, giving a slightly lazy thumbs up. At that moment, Leon paused, his eyes no longer on Steve's face, but fixed on his wrist, where, as Steve questioningly looked there himself, there was a very distinctive patch of pale green tinted skin spreading out from under the sleeve of his jacket and a little onto his palm. Reactively, Steve lowered his hand and tucked it under his other arm, tugging the sleeve down. Leon stayed silent for what felt like minutes, before he took his place back in the seat next to Steve, his gaze still fixed upon the auburn haired youth.

"What's wrong with your arm?"

Steve gulped back the lump in his throat slightly, focusing his eyesight on the dull, grey material of the back of the seat in front of him, not moving for a while.

"I uh…"

"Let me see." Leon requested, a light authoritative tone in his voice, holding his hand out palm upwards in an ushering manner.

Not daring to object, and more so than that, not having the heart to say no to Leon, Steve pulled his hand back from under his arm slowly and lifted it towards Leon's. He felt Leon's fingers brush lightly against the back of his hand, before they settled gently around his wrist, and his sleeve was pulled back up to settle just below his elbow, revealing the infected area in its entirety. The skin there, like that on his wrist, was a pale, but obvious green colour, the hue becoming slightly darker as it reached the tiny, slightly discoloured dot, that would not otherwise be discernible from a freckle, where a needle point had once been forcefully pushed through. The veins there, although their usual blue, were much more clear and pronounced than they should have been, giving the tainted skin a slightly disturbing pattern, branching out from his wrist.

It made Steve feel sick to see Leon looking at it. He could barely look at it himself without feeling faint. It was not because of the way it looked; he didn't care about that. It was because of what it 'meant'. He was no longer human. He was a thing. He was infected with the same type of virus that Leon spent his whole life…his whole everything, trying to eliminate. There was no cure. There was no magic fix for a virus like T-Veronica. Although he knew little detail about the virus from a scientific standpoint, Steve had lived with it inside him for long enough to know that it wasn't the kind of virus that the human body could fight. It adapted to ascertain its survival. And he was going to carry it with him to his grave.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Leon finally asked, after another long period of painful silence.

He kept his fingers around Steve's wrist so that the boy couldn't pull his hand away, eyes still fixed on his arm. There was nothing in his expression that allowed Steve to decipher what he was thinking, but whatever it was, it can't have been good.

"…I didn't want you to know."

"Why? You have no symptoms, and you're clearly not hostile. This isn't like any strain I've seen before."

"T-Veronica."

"The name of the virus?"

"Yes…"

"Your skin feels like it's burning," Leon noted, looking up from Steve's wrist and meeting the boy's eyes briefly, "does it hurt?"

"No." Steve shook his head quickly, "It's been like that ever since…"

"So it's an effect of the virus?"

Steve nodded, starting to feel calmer the more Leon spoke to him about it. Why wasn't he shocked? Why didn't he react? Didn't he care?

"And you're definitely not uncomfortable?" Leon pushed, still watching the younger male with concern.

"No…most of the time I can't feel it at all…"

"Good." Leon nodded, lowering the sleeve of Steve's jacket back down over his wrist slowly, letting go of him.

Steve stayed still as he lowered his arm back out of eyesight, barely even breathing. Not only had Leon been completely calm about it, but he'd also showed more concern for the boy himself rather than for anything related to the virus. He could do nothing but watch the older man in a mixture of admiration and confusion, feeling as though he was going to both cry and laugh at the same time.

"There's nothing for you to worry about. You'll have to tell them that you have it, but nothing's gonna happen to you. They'll wanna ask you some questions and maybe take a blood sample. That should be it."

"Don't you…I mean…you don't…"

"Why should it bother me?" Leon interrupted, as though reading his mind, shrugging a little, "it doesn't make you any less human. What those people did to you is unforgivable. They're the monsters. Not you."

Steve felt his eyes sting, and for a while, he stayed silent, watching the back of the chair in front of him in a desperate attempt to distract himself from his dangerous emotional state with boredom. The bottom half of the chair was slightly distorted and blurred through the tears gathering in his eyes, and he kept his gaze straight, terrified that Leon would notice. He hated crying in front of people.

However, all of those boundaries, his self control, and his stoic disposition, came crashing down in an instant as he felt Leon's arm rest firmly around his shoulders, pulling him down gently against the older male's chest in a very easy and comfortable action. Steve kept his arms folded slightly timidly across his stomach as he let his head rest against Leon's shoulder, before bringing one of them up over his face as he started to cry, unable to stop it before it happened. It wasn't loud, and it wasn't dramatic, but he felt his shoulders shaking along with his slightly erratic breathing, and knew that it was embarrassingly obvious that he was crying. He tried desperately to stop, but couldn't. It was as though everything he had felt for the past three years…all of the pain, and the loneliness, and the anger…it was all showing itself in one exhausting display of emotion, and he wasn't sure how long he was crying, but it felt like hours. Steve didn't know whether Leon was looking at him or not, but he didn't move, and he didn't speak, he just kept his arm around his young companion comfortingly, occasionally tightening his fingers slightly on the boys shoulder, as though to remind him that he was still there, and that he wouldn't leave.

Steve wasn't sure when he stopped crying…or even if he did at all…or what happened after that. All he knew was that the warm body he was being held against, the gentle arm wrapped around his shoulders, belonged to a person who truly and genuinely cared about him. No matter in what way.

He was not alone.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve awoke sharply as the plane came to a shuddering halt, the huge, metal frame of the vehicle vibrating fairly violently as the rubber of the wheels met the firm tarmac of the runway. It was only then that he regained the majority of his senses and realised that he had slept through the entire flight. He wasn't sure how long that was, exactly, but it was now clear daylight outside. It had at least been overnight.

Through the tiny, rectangular window, he could clearly see one side of Washington's Reagan International Airport, where he had only ever been once before in his life, as a child, during a short vacation to the country's capital. Through one of the windows of the terminal, slightly shadowed by the sun's reflection on the glass, he could faintly see the familiar red and blue of the American flag. It felt strange being back in America. It wasn't quite 'home', but it was familiar, the people there spoke his language, and best of all, he wasn't an 'outsider' anymore. As long as he could hide his arm…hide this other side of his existence, he looked just like everybody else.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned from the window in response, quickly remembering the presence of his long-time travel companion. Leon's hair was a little scruffier than usual; it wasn't exactly 'messy', it just wasn't as perfectly neat and tidy as it usually looked, as though he'd just woken up. Of course, it could have partly related to the fact that Steve was still pressed quite closely against him, and that Leon's movement from his rigid position in the chair was obviously restricted.

"S-sorry!" Steve mumbled quickly, shifting properly into his own seat, where the seatbelt had been fastened securely around his hips, and a heavy, woollen blanket had been placed caringly over the bottom half of his body as he slept.

He spent a while looking at the blanket, feeling the same sense of deep, confused emotion he had felt the previous night. He was happy…ecstatic, really, at having someone care so much about him, but at the same time, he felt a strange, uncomfortable ache, not unfamiliar to sadness.

"Here."

Leon passed a bottle of water to the distracted younger male, smiling warmly as he watched him. There was something so affectionate in his eyes, so tender; almost reflecting the way a loving parent may look upon their child. Steve couldn't help but be reminded of the way his mother used to look at him sometimes.

Leon was not nearly old enough to be a parental figure. After all, there were only four years, if that, between them. But there was something so comforting, to Steve, in feeling as though he had someone who he could rely on so heavily. Someone who would gladly take care of him when he was sick, who would lend him a shoulder to cry on, who could teach him about the world, and stand by his side when he had no one else left.

"You feeling okay?"

Steve looked at Leon again, pausing briefly, before meeting his eyes.

It was the first time, in the entire month they had been together. Steve had not once been able to look Leon properly in the eyes when they were talking. It was partly because of his…strange affection towards the older man, but that wasn't the main reason. It was almost as though he felt unworthy to look at him directly; that there was so much space between them, whether it be life experience, physical ability, or knowledge, whatever it may be, Steve felt this 'gap' between the two males. Regardless of the fact that Leon never showed him any hostility, and never attempted to assert any kind of authority, Steve still felt as though he owed his companion the highest of respect, and didn't even deserve for their eyes to meet.

However, for whatever reason, the gap between them seemed so much smaller now. Steve's confidence had begun to return, along with his strength, his memory, and his willpower. He knew that it would take a long time for him to fully recover, after everything that had happened, but Leon's constant enthusiasm seemed to have somehow rubbed off on him.

"I'm fine." He said resolutely, returning the smile slightly timidly, "Th-thank you for…"

"Don't mention it." Leon watched him for a while, still smiling, "I've had a lot of fun with you."

Steve really wasn't sure how to reply. He knew that Leon was probably only trying to be nice and make the best of a bad situation. Sure, Steve had enjoyed himself; so far, this had been the best trip of his life, even if it almost involved his death. But for Leon, it was just another job. That's all it was. Not only that, but Steve had made it far more difficult for him than it probably had to be. Maybe there was some part of Leon that genuinely felt affection towards the boy whose life he saved…but in the end, Steve was just a name on the list of people who had all been saved by Leon Kennedy.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Leon questioned, more rhetorically than anything; he knew the answer. "You think that I don't care about you because I save people like you all the time. Because this is my job. But you're wrong. In fact, this has never happened to me before. Not once."

Steve watched him quietly, as Leon continued.

"I don't normally get to meet the people I save. I don't see them face to face. They don't find me for the chance to say 'thanks', because that's not how my job works. I'm not a superhero. I'm just a man. I do what I can, and then I move on to the next problem. I don't need gratitude to keep doing what I do. I save people because I want to, not because it makes me a hero. Truth is, this is the best I've ever felt on a job before. Because not only did I get to meet the person I saved, but I got to see him get better. I got to see him as he probably was before this all happened. Not as a figure on my performance sheet, but as a real human being. And you know what? He's pretty great. He's funny, and smart, and kinda charming, and I wouldn't have met him if I hadn't taken this job. So I don't regret it at all. Not one little bit."

As Leon finished speaking, he smiled, before standing up as the seatbelt light went out, starting to remove their possessions from the overhead storage, leaving Steve to sit there slightly dumbstruck, and once more on the verge of tears.

He knew very well that he was still in a weak state, physically 'and' emotionally, but he was starting to get slightly irritated at his body's susceptibility to crying whenever he felt any kind of emotion. He really wasn't an emotional person…at least, he never used to be. In any case, he hoped that it wasn't a permanent thing. A guy his age should cry maybe once, twice at the most in a year, and he was pretty damn sure he'd already filled his quota.

Still, that didn't stop him from watching Leon unpacking jackets and scarves from the storage compartment and having a very desperate urge to cling to him. Steve had always been a rather affectionate person, and although he could…on occasion, be quite crude and irritating, as his friends and family had lovingly pointed out, he was a soft guy at heart. He was definitely a 'momma's boy', and had never refused a hug from any of his female relatives or acquaintances. And it had never been something he was ashamed of.

In light of that, he quickly sniffed back the tears, discarded the blanket from his thighs, and stood up, wrapping his arms around Leon's waist in the process, resting his head against his shoulder, feeling the older man stumble back very slightly in surprise.

If Leon wouldn't let Steve thank him verbally, then this was the best he could do to show his appreciation. It wasn't much, and there was a distinct possibility that it would make things very awkward, but Steve didn't care. Leon's body was just warm, and steady between his arms, and Steve felt hair that wasn't his own brush against his neck as Leon turned his head. It was all just…nice.

After only a few seconds, though, Steve began to worry that it was a mistake. What if Leon wasn't a 'hug' person? He didn't immediately return the gesture, or move at all, actually. Well, crap.

Only after the initial bout of surprise, did Steve feel arms stronger than his own wrap around his back, and he heard Leon start to laugh. Although his primary emotion, at the time, was relief, he was slightly overwhelmed once again by the aching feeling deep in his chest. He wasn't sure what it was.

Maybe it was fear, that he'd never see Leon again.

Maybe it was happiness, in the presence of the best friend he'd ever had.

Maybe it was love.


	11. Chapter 11

Although they were already up and ready to leave the plane, Steve noticed a group of hostesses talking quietly but hurriedly beside the door, looking a little panicked. At first, he considered that there must have been some kind of mistake with the terminals, and that the plane had been steered into the wrong bay, or something else of that sort, but he became quite uncomfortably surprised when he noticed that the group of women were shooting occasional glances at himself and Leon as they spoke.

Over the intercom, one of the women quickly announced that all passengers must remain seated until advised otherwise, but that there were no problems with the plane or the flight, and so not to worry. A few disgruntled individuals returned to their seats, with bags, coats, and cases now piled precariously in their laps or on nearby vacant seats.

Steve was ushered back into his seat by Leon, who, after glancing briefly at the whispering hostesses, calmly gave Steve his coat and gloves and told him to put them back on, pulling on his own jacket as he did so and hooking his bag over one shoulder. Steve felt slightly reassured at this. Leon had said that everything was taken care of and that it would be okay. So he had nothing to worry about, right?

However, he certainly began to panic a little when one of the hostesses from the group at the front approached them, smiling slightly awkwardly. She looked at Steve briefly, before focussing her attention on Leon, keeping her voice low, as though not to alert the other passengers to the conversation.

"Mr Kennedy, you and your party will be leaving the plane first. There is a car waiting for you."

Leon didn't seem fazed by this at all, and simply nodded and thanked the attendant, shooting Steve a brief, undecipherable look, before getting up and making his way to the front of the plane, stopping at periodic intervals to check that the boy was always right behind him.

Steve, on the other hand, was not so calm, and awkwardly shambled behind Leon down the aisle, holding his gloves tightly between both hands like some kind of safety device, both afraid, at the niggling feeling that something awful was about to happen, and embarrassed, that literally every other person on the plane had their eyes fixed on them. It felt like some kind of awkward, claustrophobic death march towards the gallows.

He felt a wave of chilled air hit his face as they reached the door, and barely had time to register the rehearsed, over enthusiastic goodbyes from the flight attendants, as he noticed what was waiting for them outside.

There were five. Not one, but 'five', very expensive looking black cars parked on the tarmac beside the plane, each with blacked out windows, hiding whoever, or whatever was inside, completely from view. One of the cars, which was closer to the stairway out of the plane than the others, had its back door open in waiting. It looked very similar to a picture you'd see from some kind of glamorous celebrity party or a red carpet event, but there was something much more sinister about it…Steve couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. All he knew was that he definitely, under any circumstances, did not want to get into that car.

Outside the cars, there were several very large, stony-faced men in black suits, standing side by side in a rigid, intimidating position. Steve half expected them to be wearing sunglasses and earpieces, and have stereotypical Russian accents, but he was far too nervous to make any jokes about that, even inside his own head. There was something about the fact that they 'didn't' have any of those things that made Steve even more uncomfortable. Each of the men was looking at him slightly coldly, and the fact that he could see their eyes, and yet, still couldn't read their expressions…that was what scared him the most.

In contrast, however, to these menacing brutes, was the dainty, quite elegant-looking, bespectacled woman standing close beside them. She was wearing a suit jacket, a pencil skirt, and high heels, and her mousy-brown hair was tied up neatly into a bun. Just like the men standing around her, she had a fairly serious look on her face, and in her stance, too, but unlike them, there was something in her eyes familiar to guilt as she looked at Steve, before she focussed her attention on Leon, speaking to him softly as he approached her.

From Steve's point of view, it was quite obvious that they knew each other, and Leon greeted the woman warmly, but Steve couldn't hear what they were talking about, and he didn't dare get any closer. Leon conversed with the woman for a while, quietly, before something in his stature changed, and Steve could hear something in Leon's voice that almost sounded like panic. It shocked him a little. Not once, in the past five weeks since they had been together, had Steve seen Leon lose his cool. Not even by the smallest margin. He still didn't understand what was happening, but he knew for certain that he was not going to like it when he found out.

After a while, Leon and the woman stopped talking, and Leon glanced back at Steve briefly, his brow lightly furrowed, looking saddened, and even a little angry, before he was ushered into one of the cars by two of the men in suits, and driven away without so much as a 'goodbye', another of the cars following close behind.

Steve just stood there, motionless, feeling a mixture of confusion, sadness and fear, staring at the empty section of runway where two of the ominous black cars had so suddenly disappeared, taking with them the one important thing he had left in his life. His sight was fixed so firmly in place, that he didn't even notice the woman approach him, before she placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Mr Burnside?"

Steve flinched a little, looking at her, feeling nauseous. He hated it when people called him 'Mr Burnside'. It was so cold and unfamiliar. It was not like him at all. Besides…it reminded him of his father.

"I'm sorry for everything that you've been through, but you should know that you'll be safe with us."

"W…where did you take Leon?"

The woman paused, watching him sympathetically, her hand still on his shoulder.

"Agent Kenne…" She paused briefly, before smiling a little, "Leon…has other things to do.

His part of the job is over."

Steve froze, the nausea building slightly in his stomach and his mouth growing dry. He felt a light wave of pain in his head, and his chest felt unbearably tight. He couldn't have felt any worse if she had just slapped him across the face, and so he just stood there, speechless, feeling too tired, too sick, too hopeless…

In the end, it came back to the starting point. He didn't have to ask any questions to know what was going to happen to him now. He was going back into a cage. Maybe not physically…but he was still trapped. He was a thing. A thing that nobody wanted and everyone was afraid of. He was just one of Umbrella's leftovers, handed over to the government for them to cover up like some shameful mistake. As though Steve Burnside had never even existed. After all…he had no family…no friends…no one would miss him.

He felt as though everything he had gained over the past few weeks. Everything he'd struggled through in order to get back on his feet. It was all worthless now. It only took a few brief, thoughtless words to knock him right back over again.

And it hurt.

He had nothing left.

And he could do nothing more than stand there and let them take him, as the woman put her arm around his shoulders and steered him gently towards the car. As he was ushered slowly into the back seat, and the door was closed firmly behind him. As he faintly heard the engine start, but could see nothing, and feel nothing around him.

It was dark.

And it was silent.

And he was afraid.

And although he wanted to fight back…wanted to shout and scream and run away, he didn't. He stayed quiet and still, and he let it all happen. Because there was no point anymore.

Because every time he thought he finally had something worth fighting for, it was ripped away from him.

His friends…His parents…His freedom…His humanity… Claire…

…Leon.

And he couldn't fight anymore.

Not anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

Steve sat cross-legged on the bed of his room, staring blankly at a television that wasn't even switched on. He spent a lot of his time doing that, really. Just staring pointlessly at random pieces of furniture.

No, he wasn't losing his mind.

Not yet, at least.

He had just found himself doing a lot of 'thinking' lately. It was difficult not to find yourself sitting around and 'thinking' when you were a resident in this new facility. Thinking was the only thing to do that was less boring than watching very old television series' on a tiny, so-quiet-that-you-could-only-hear-it-if-you-were-sitting-within-an-inch-of-the-screen, television. He was actually surprised that technology so advanced could be so pathetic, considering the fact that it was some kind of futuristic, LCD, flat screen that you could plug everything, including your toaster into, and make pop tarts while you watched it.

In which case, other than staring at furniture and thinking, Steve had been doing a lot of reading, during the times when he was allowed out of his room for 'recreational purposes', as the staff had so irritatingly described it. In reality, there was a pool, a gym, and a library within the facility, and considering the fact that Steve hated physical activity with a passion, he spent the majority of his time in the library. In fact, he had grown quite proud of the number of books he had worked through since his arrival a couple of weeks ago. Granted, a lot of those books were comics or books intended for people a lot younger than him, but he'd decided to start slowly. He'd never really been much of a book worm before, but he had decided that, while he was trapped here, he may as well make the most of it and acquire some knowledge in the process. Eventually, he thought, he'd work his way through the entire library, and come out of it a genius, but for the moment, he was still somewhere near the beginning of the 'Science Fiction' section.

This facility, although used for basically the same purpose as the one where he had been previously held captive, was very different to the latter. It was light, and clean, and although still very clinical, it was surprisingly comfortable. The staff there were fairly friendly, and would often strike up a conversation with the test subjects, or, 'residents', as they were so carefully named. Steve still didn't know any of the staff by name, but he didn't really care. He wasn't sure that he wanted to.

The meals there were nice, too. Pretty average, as canteen meals went, but he wasn't exactly expecting them to be prepared to Michelin star standards, and they were varied, ensuring that the 'residents' stayed well fed and healthy. It was all very monotonous…but it was safe.

His room was pretty nice, too. It was small, of course, and minimalistic. All of the walls, furniture and linens were white, and there were no colourful decorations or knick-knacks, but at least he had a television, even if he wasn't allowed to adjust the volume and had been limited to seven channels. His bed was comfortable. It was always kept clean. He had his own little bathroom. There was nothing to complain about, really. Especially not in contrast to the animal cage he'd been kept in before…or prison.

He had decided, within his first few days of arrival, which he had spent in silent, mind-numbing depression, that he may as well make the best of a bad situation and just get the hell on with his life. So that was what he was doing. He did as he was told, he followed the 'only speak when spoken to' rule, and he tried his best to stay positive. Occasionally, his thoughts would wander to things he didn't want to remember; to people and events from his past that he was trying desperately just to forget, and for a moment, his disposition would falter. It never lasted, though. He was learning not to care. It was for the best.

Most frequently, he would think about Leon.

Every day.

Every hour.

And his mind would fixate on him, until his chest tightened, and his heart ached.

He had never considered that he could ever feel so strongly about another person, but his feelings for Leon were so often exposed as unbearable, physical pain, he sometimes worried that his heart would actually stop.

Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, he knew that they would see each other again.

And that was what kept him going.

He never really saw anyone else, other than the doctors. He had frequent, daily check-ups, that the doctors described as 'routine', but were often quite invasive. Every morning, he was woken at seven A.M, so that the doctors could check his temperature, his heart rate, his blood pressure…all the usual kind of tests. Then weekly, he had the less desirable procedures, involving blood tests, urine samples and several different scans. He wasn't even sure what they were all for, and he'd never bothered to ask; it was probably for the best that he remained oblivious. He knew that they were monitoring the virus, and that was the most he needed to know. After all, there was some kind of security in knowing that if anything were to happen to the virus…if it mutated or strengthened…or even if, by the slightest chance, it began to disappear, he would like to know about it.

He had already decided that it was probably safer that way. Being kept under surveillance, that is. Although he wanted his freedom; wanted his own life back, the thought that he could hurt someone if the virus were to get out of control was too unbearable. He wouldn't let it cause suffering to somebody else the way it had done to him.

Within the facility, there were five doctors who were specialised in biological science. These were the ones who carried out the weekly procedures, and anything more serious, if it were to occur, like an outbreak or if a virus were to get out of control. In addition to these specialised doctors, there were two regular doctors, who performed the routine check-ups and otherwise monitored the general health of the residents. They were there to take care of everything that wasn't solely related to the host's virus, including monitoring diet and exercise. Other than the doctors, there were several staff who maintained the facility; cooks, cleaners, electricians to take care of the expensive machinery. There weren't many of them, though. It was a large facility, and it was easy to go several hours without seeing another person. Steve was almost always alone.

He knew that there were other residents there, too; other people who shared Steve's unfortunate fate, and by some unthinkable circumstance had become hosts to a virus. He had heard a few names thrown around, but he had never seen another one of these 'residents'. He was quite sure that there weren't many of them there; perhaps two or three, other than himself, and it was clear that they liked to keep to themselves.

During an average day, he would wake at seven for his daily examination, which usually lasted an hour. Then he would eat breakfast alone in the canteen. After breakfast, he would go to the pool and swim for a while. Usually he'd swim for an hour or two. Daily exercise wasn't normally on his agenda, when he had the choice, but residents were required, quite strictly, to perform at least an hour of physical activity per day, minus Sundays. As well as keeping his body healthy enough to control the virus living within it, he had been in such a poor physical state when he had first arrived, that for days, the doctors had repeatedly reminded him that he was lucky to be walking around at all. Unable to argue, Steve had taken it upon himself to stick to a routine of either swimming or running every day, and was undeniably starting to feel a lot better because of it. He had even noticed the colour returning to his skin, and the muscle in his body building back up enough that 'skinny' could no longer be added to his physical description. He was quite happily within the 'slim' category, now. It sounded much better than 'skinny', at least.

After exercising, he would take a shower and have an early lunch. Again, he would do all of this without even seeing another human being pass him in the corridor. After eating lunch, he would then make his way to the library, situate himself quite comfortably in the back corner, and spend his time reading all the way up until early evening. Every day, he would spend six to eight hours with his face hidden behind a book, leaving the ones he had finished in a pile on the desk in front of him, as a physical representation of what he had achieved that day. Sometimes, he would only have two or three books in front of him by the time he went to eat dinner, and other days there would be up to six or seven.

After dinner, he would return to his room at around eight o'clock, and either watch some kind of news channel on television for a while, or just lie on his bed and get lost in his thoughts. He was always asleep by ten. This schedule, however repetitive and boring, had become his daily routine. He followed it quite religiously, actually. He felt that it brought some kind of stability back into his life. It was safe.

Regardless of what he went through, though, there was always a part of him that felt proud of what he'd done. Every book he read…every lap he ran on the track or swam in the pool was proof that he had not given up. That he still had enough strength left in him, if not in body, then in mind, to keep living. If he had to spend the rest of his life living in this facility, trapped in this monotonous, clinical labyrinth like a human gerbil, then so be it. They could try their best to break him. They could keep knocking him down, and he would get back up. He was not still living because he had no choice.

He was living because he wanted to.

From his position on the bed, he looked at the wall beside the pillow, where there was a small, plain piece of paper stuck to the wall, with a short, slightly messy line of writing, just at the centre. It had been given to him within the first week of his arrival. There had been no address. No name.

But he knew exactly who it was from.

Just that tiny piece of paper, with one thing written upon it.

"Never give up."

…And he smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

After he'd been at the facility for about two months, Steve was starting to feel like his old self again. It seemed strange to him, really, that the same situation that had broken his confidence and his body and driven him to the edge of his sanity, had now itself become the cure.

Granted, the facility he was in now was a different matter altogether, but he still had very little freedom. He was allowed outside of the facility into the open air once a week, but only under strict supervision. Even then, the 'open air' he was allowed out into was a garden at the back of the facility, which was pretty much in the middle of nowhere. They were clearly afraid that he would try to escape, and that the virus would therefore be 'loose' in society. As though he were some kind of wild animal. Steve had no intention of trying to escape, but he often tried to make it look as though he was plotting something, just to keep them on their toes.

Following his routine of reading and exercising, he had noticed several differences in himself. He was a lot healthier, to begin with, that was for sure. The doctors, now, rather than commenting on how thin he was, had started to note, quite gladly, that he was a very healthy height and weight for his age, and that he had recovered a lot more quickly than any of them had anticipated. One of his doctors; the only female member of the team, had even begun to frequently comment, between girlish giggling, that he was 'a very attractive young man'. She never seemed to forget to mention it, actually. It didn't bother him, really. She was more than twice his age, not to mention the fact that relationships between the staff and the residents was strictly prohibited, for various obvious reasons.

Other than his physical status, Steve had noticed a difference in his general intelligence. He knew very well that he had already had an above average IQ since before his entry into the facility, but due to his constant efforts in the library, he had picked up on several subtle improvements in his general knowledge and vocabulary. Up to date, in the past two months, he had read sixty two different books, varying from historical documents, to thick, fictional novels, to complex academic theses. He read anything and everything he could get his hands on. He still didn't understand everything he read, especially when it came to academic texts, but he was determined, through such media, to find out more about the T-Veronica virus. He had never seen anything that had mentioned it directly, but several of the more scientific writings mentioned a lot about DNA and various cancerous viruses that seemed to have similarly devastating effects and propagation rates.

At this rate, however, he was starting to believe that he'd find a cure for his own condition before the doctors ever did anything useful. All they ever seemed to do was 'monitor'. Surely, it would make more sense to come up with a cure? What would the world be like today if scientists had spent all of their time sitting around 'monitoring' the black plague…or cholera…or tuberculosis, rather than developing vaccines? We'd be in a lot of deep shit, that's for sure.

In any case, with the variety of different subjects he could cover within the library, Steve never found himself bored. However, there was something crucial missing from his routine, and it was something that was not easily replaced with fictional characters.

He was lonely.

Quite desperately so, in fact.

He spoke to at least one doctor every day, but it wasn't the same. They didn't really care to ask how his day had been, or about his family, or his hobbies. They wanted to know about his health. And the virus. It was always about the virus. Steve was actually starting to think that his name was 'T-Veronica'.

In fact, he had made several jokes about changing his name to Veronica, but the doctors didn't find him funny. Steve thought it was, but all the doctors did was look at him slightly disapprovingly, or produce a slightly heavier and more audible outtake of breath in mock amusement.

Leon would have laughed.

Somewhere during his ninth week at the facility, he had just finished his current record of sixteen laps in the pool, and had then showered and made his way to the canteen for lunch, after changing into one of the many and un-varied pairs of white pants and t-shirts that had been provided for him.

Whenever he went to the canteen, he would sit at the same table; a small, inconspicuous one right at the back of the room. Not that if he sat on a large table in the middle, he'd be 'conspicuous'. The canteen was almost always completely empty. It just seemed even more pathetic to sit at a large table when he was the only person there. It would only mean that there were more empty seats nearby for him to feel depressed about.

However, on this particular day, as he stepped into the large, plain, dining hall section of the canteen, there was already somebody else sitting there. At his table, no less.

It was a young girl; she couldn't have been much older than twelve or thirteen, wearing a very similar clinical, white get-up to the one that Steve himself was always sporting. She had chin-length, blonde hair, curved slightly around her face, and she was hunched over a bowl of soup slightly timidly, her eyes fixed nervously on the meal as though she had just been convicted of some kind of heinous crime.

Steve took a while to register the fact that she was actually there, wondering for a while whether it was possible for him to have imagined her, and so he stayed still by the door for several minutes, just watching the little girl as she scooped very tiny spoonfuls of soup into her mouth.

His second thought, of course, after he had decided that she was, indeed, a real person, was why he had never seen her before. Judging by her posture and her clothing, and of course, her age, she was definitely not a doctor, or part of the staff, and therefore had to be a resident. In which case, he watched her for a while longer, sadly, broken hearted by the melancholy look in her eyes. For a girl so young to be suffering through the same torture that he, himself, felt every single day, was unimaginable.

In which case, he quickly shook himself out of his stupor by the door, and made his way over to the young girl, taking a seat next to her slowly, afraid that he would scare her.

"Hey. I'm Steve. What's your name?" he smiled, trying his best not to look intimidating.

The girl looked at him quickly, startled, looking for a while as though she was about to get up and run. Steve did his best to keep smiling, his heart aching for the fate of the broken little girl sitting in front of him. The girl, in turn, did not smile, and, although she was looking at him, her eyes darted about between the floor, the wall, the bowl of soup, and Steve, nervously.

"It's okay." He said softly, keeping his hands on the table, making sure that she could clearly see the white, plastic tag around his wrist, indicating his status as a resident there. "I got taken here too, just like you."

At this, the girl seemed to relax a little in her chair, her gaze fixed on Steve's wrist, before she lifted one of her own hands onto the table beside his slowly, revealing a tag identical to his own, around a much smaller, thinner, paler wrist.

Steve smiled, still watching her, resting one of his hands under his chin, his elbow on the table.

"So, what's your name? I'll bet it's something pretty like Katy, or Sophie."

The little girl paused, looking at the table, and Steve saw the faint hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

"Was I right?!" He laughed, "I knew it. I am such a genius."

"No." The little girl giggled slightly, and Steve felt as though the room became a little lighter.

"I am so a genius. Just give me three more guesses and I will get it right."

"Sherry."

"Sherry." He smiled, nodding, "I like it. And you have to admit, I was close before." He leant forward a little further on the table, "Okay, so then, you can call me 'Stevie', and then we totally match."

The little girl laughed again, finally meeting his eyes with her own. They were pale, watery blue, and so full of intelligence far beyond her age. There was something in them that revealed a past full of fear, and sadness. Memories that a little girl should never have. Things that a little girl should never have seen. Steve felt pain for her far greater than anything he had ever felt for himself.

And he decided that if there was anything he could do to alleviate that pain...anything at all, he would do it.

He would follow Leon's example, and he would hold out his hand to someone who was in trouble, no matter what the cost to his own life.

He knew exactly the ways in which this little girl would suffer.

Because he had felt them all for himself.

But he also knew, quite vividly, the difference that one person could make in somebody else's life. Somebody to hold your hand, and tell you that everything will be okay, and stand beside you when you have no one and nothing left.

And so, he would give her exactly what Leon had given to him.

A friend.


	14. Chapter 14

During the following few weeks, Steve spent a lot of his time with the timid little girl he had now come to know well as Sherry Birkin. Although naturally very quiet and shy, her attitude would change completely when she was around Steve, when there were no doctors around. To his relief, she had warmed to him instantly, and he always enjoyed her company thoroughly, as she seemed to enjoy his.

Steve didn't have any siblings. Being an only child, he had never really known what it was like to have a brother or sister, and so the thought never really crossed his mind. When he was little, he'd had a lot of friends, and they had served to fill the gap he may have noticed otherwise. Regardless of his lack of experience with siblings, he was quite sure that Sherry was the closest thing he'd ever had to a little sister. Being able to make her laugh was the best feeling in the world, and he was determined to protect her from the worst of what she could be exposed to.

He always went with her to her examinations. Sometimes he held her hand, when he was allowed to. The doctors didn't seem to pay much attention to the fact that he came with her. They simply continued with their work as though nothing had changed at all. Steve did his best to distract her from whatever experiments the doctors wanted to perform, keeping her attention away from the needle by telling her jokes while she was having blood taken, or showing her how to fold scraps of paper into animal shapes while the doctors poked, and prodded, and were generally feigning ignorance to any amount of pain or discomfort they may be causing her.

She had asked, after one of her check-ups, if she were allowed to accompany Steve to his, but after seeing the way her tests were performed in comparison to his own, he had decided it best not to let her be exposed to the more harsh and invasive tests that were regularly performed on him. He wasn't sure whether the difference in treatment had anything to do with age, or gender, or the fact that they were infected with different viral strains, but it didn't really matter what the reason was. He didn't want her to see it. That was all.

They ate their meals together in the canteen every day, talking about carefree and unimportant things, like books, and movies, and songs. Steve made sure to carefully avoid any topic that would lead them to discuss family, or friends, or anything to do with viruses. He didn't know very much at all about Sherry's past; about where her parents were or how she ended up in a place like this, but if she didn't tell him about it herself, then he would never ask. The fact that she never spoke about those things herself indicated that she was hiding something horrific about her past…things that were too painful to talk, or even think about. Steve understood it all too well. It was much better that they stayed distracted talking about trivial, light hearted things. So they did.

"So, you wanna be a doctor, huh?" Steve asked her, as they were sitting in the canteen, eating lunch, "I think you'd make a pretty amazing doctor. If I ever get sick, I hope I can come to your hospital."

Sherry laughed, "You don't own a hospital if you're a doctor, Steve, you work at a hospital."

"I know that." He chuckled, "But you may as well own the whole hospital, because you're gonna be the best doctor there."

She laughed again, sipping some orange juice through a straw, before looking a little melancholy, watching her hands on the table.

"I want to help people. That's what I want to do."

He watched her, smiling and nodding slowly, before she continued.

"I want to help people…the way Leon and Claire help people."

Steve froze slightly, taking a while to register what she had just said, his brain working overtime to process the information into something that made sense in his head. She couldn't possibly be talking about the same Leon and Claire that he was thinking about, could she?

"Leon and Claire?" He questioned, his brow slightly furrowed.

"Mhm." She nodded, still watching her hands, or the table, "Leon and Claire saved me…from Raccoon City."

…Leon was in Raccoon City…he was in Raccoon City with Claire…and Leon had told him that they saved a little girl…

"You…you're the little girl. You're the little girl they saved." He said quickly, talking to himself more than he was talking to her.

She looked at him, confusion clear in her expression.

"I…I know Leon and Claire." He continued, feeling both slightly nauseous and excited at the same time, "They both saved me, too…not at the same time, but…"

"Really?"

"Yeah." He nodded quickly, unable to stop the laughter that escaped his lips, "I can't believe this. This is like the freakiest and yet best coincidence ever…I knew I'd heard your name somewhere before!"

Sherry continued to watch him for a while, still looking slightly puzzled, before she, too, began to laugh.

"Well, there is no one in the world whose footsteps you should be prouder to follow in." He smiled brightly, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

"Claire was happy, too. When I said that I wanted to be like her."

"When did you see Claire? The last time, I mean."

"Last week."

"Last week? How?"

"She visits me all the time."

He almost forgot to breathe for a second.

"She visits you? Here?"

"Yes. Every week. People aren't usually allowed to visit, but Claire is a special exception."

He stayed silent, unsure of how to act, or what to say.

"You can come with me next time…if you want to."

"Y…yeah…yeah, I want to."

Was it the best idea? After all, Claire probably still thought he was dead…was it better just to leave the past in the past and let her forget about him?

"Then you should come with me. She visits me every Sunday."

But surely, it was better to let her know that he was still alive, and that he was okay. It didn't mean that she had to involve him in her life, or that they'd ever even see each other again after that, but he couldn't bear the thought of her carrying the burden of his death on her shoulders.

"Okay…yeah." He said softly, nodding. "We can both see Claire."

And he smiled.

And so did Sherry.

And at that moment, so many pieces in the great puzzle of his shattered life were beginning to come back together.

Sherry was an avid reader, and spent even more time in the library than Steve did, the irony of it being that she always did so in the corner opposite to the one in which Steve would always sit himself. It was quite remarkable, therefore, that they had never crossed paths, or even seen or heard each other before. It was a big library, though.

Sherry liked to read fantasy books the most; fairytales and such. In this respect, she was every bit as innocent and naïve as any other little girl. Since they had begun to go together to the library, snuggled up in the corner at the table where she would usually sit, Steve would sometimes read to her. She was a very intelligent girl; astonishingly intelligent, actually, for someone her age, and so she didn't need to be read to. She loved it, though. She laughed at the way Steve playfully exaggerated the voices of the characters, and stayed silent during the more sombre scenes, her beautiful blue eyes transfixed on Steve, mesmerized, as he told enchanting tales of princesses, and castles, and happy endings.

One particular day, during the countdown to Claire's next visit, as they were huddled side by side at the table in the corner of the library, Steve was teaching Sherry how to fold a piece of paper into a rose. Such a skill had been acquired, one wintry afternoon, during a fourth period English literature class, in which the teacher had given up on regular lessons in preparation for the Christmas vacation, and instead, taught her students how to fold animals and flowers out of the pages of 'Romeo and Juliet'.

He folded several roses using pages from 'Cinderella', 'Alice in Wonderland' and 'Sleeping Beauty', tying the 'stems' together with a small blue ribbon, which was actually a bookmark that he had carefully pulled from another novel, before holding out his makeshift bouquet to Sherry, her face lighting up as he did so.

"Here. These are for you." He chuckled, delighted at the little sparkle he saw in her eyes as she took the roses, "Every princess loves roses, right?"

She stared at the roses for a while, holding them tightly between both hands, as though afraid that someone was going to steal them away from her, before he saw her little eyes cloud up with tears, and she dropped the paper bouquet onto the table, throwing herself against Steve's chest. After an initial moment of statuesque shock, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, smiling softly.

"Don't worry. You'll get your happy ending."

…We both will.


	15. Chapter 15

12:15…12:16…12:17…

Steve watched the large, white clock on the wall of the canteen, following the second hand with his eyes as he nervously chewed on the side of his index finger.

Claire was coming to visit Sherry.

Claire was coming to visit Sherry 'today'.

Claire was coming to visit Sherry at exactly 12:30 today.

He couldn't help but restlessly pace up and down the length of one of the walls of the canteen, his eyes always darting back to the clock as soon as they fixed on something else, as though he was afraid that he'd look up again and he'd be too late…and he'd have missed his chance. He could practically hear his heartbeat in his ears, and his palms felt cold and slightly damp. This wasn't like him at all. And he couldn't understand why he was so nervous. It was just Claire, after all. They were friends. Good friends. He was excited to be able to see her, of course…but there was another part of him…a tiny, barely noticeable, niggling part of him somewhere in the very back of his mind, that didn't want to see Claire at all.

But why?

Of course he had had feelings for Claire before…but that was a long time ago. A long, long time ago, really. He'd been thinking about it a lot in the past few days, and he had come to the conclusion that those feelings almost definitely weren't there anymore. It's not that he didn't love her anymore…of course he did. He didn't think he'd ever stop loving Claire. But it was a different kind of love. He knew that, now.

Claire was one of his closest friends. If it weren't for Leon, and perhaps, now, Sherry, then Claire would be his 'best' friend. Back when they had been together, Steve felt as though he could tell her anything, and maybe she'd laugh, or maybe she'd scold him for it, but she'd always listen. She'd always care. In that respect, Claire was a lot like a sister to him. On Rockfort Island, she had been there for him, when he was alone. She'd saved his life on numerous occasions. Without Claire, he wouldn't have ever been able to escape the island. Maybe not even because he didn't have the ability…just because he wouldn't have had a reason. After his imprisonment there, he had taken comfort in the fact that he'd be released eventually. Not only that, his father was there, too. But after the island had become infected, that last bit of hope had died along with it. If it weren't for Claire, he'd never have had a reason to keep fighting.

Even if he didn't love her in a romantic way…she meant a lot to him.

Yet…they hadn't seen each other in almost three years. Worse than that, Claire had thought him dead for those 'almost three years'. Now…what was he even going to say to her? 'Hey, it's me, Steve. I've been alive this whole time, by the way.' …That definitely wasn't going to cut it.

He froze, mid-pace, when he heard footsteps in the adjacent corridor, feeling for a brief moment as though he was going to mess up the clean, white tiles by bringing his breakfast back up onto them…and then he saw Sherry, sitting quietly and patiently at one of the tables next to him, pale blue eyes fixed on the door. She looked so happy; so excited. He smiled a little to himself, and he felt his pulse calm slightly, almost returning to its usual pace, as he returned to her side at the table. He stayed standing, though, straightening himself out and taking a deep, steadying breath. No matter what was about to happen, he would be ready for it.

He saw nothing but Claire's arm, at first, as she held open the door, all tidy, feminine nails on a hand that was dressed with a very contrasting black, leather biker glove. He almost laughed at the thought. That was Claire, alright. He knew her, only from her hand. Then he heard her voice, as she spoke to someone out in the corridor, thanking them. He assumed it was one of the members of staff who had shown her to the room. Her voice was just as he remembered it: soft and calm, but with a very distinctive, commanding undertone. As the door opened a little further, he saw fiery red hair, tied up neatly into a ponytail, just as it had been the first time they met. She was wearing black leather boots, jeans, and a plain, pastel sweater. It was all so…nostalgic. He felt his chest tighten a little, and his eyes stung, as he realised how much he had really missed her, and what it meant, that he was seeing her now, for the first time in almost three years. So much time had passed, and yet nothing had changed. She was exactly the same. And despite everything, so was he. And he couldn't help but feel a rush of emotion at the thought of being reunited with one of his dearest friends after such a long time.

As she stepped into the room, he watched her, silently, wanting more than anything for this to be the right decision…for it to make her happy. His eyes met hers, and she froze on the spot, as the door swung closed behind her, leaving the room silent and still.

He gulped back the lump in his throat, not sure whether to speak, or to let her take it in. The room was silent for several, painful seconds.

She didn't look shocked, though. Not at all. In fact, she didn't even look sad.

His heart sank.

Maybe she didn't remember him.

"Steve…"

Before he had a chance to say anything, she came quickly across the room and wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly, almost knocking him over. She was warm, and smelled very faintly of motor oil.

"C…Claire…I…"

"I didn't believe it at first…" She interrupted, pulling herself away from him, but holding his shoulders tightly, her eyes slightly misted with tears, "…When Leon told me…" She shook her head a little, smiling, "I really didn't believe…"

"I…I'm sorry…"

"Don't be."

"B…but I…"

"You have nothing to be sorry for. The ones who should be sorry are the people who did this to you. And you can count on the fact that we're gonna find them. And we're gonna make sure they pay for what they've done."

He saw anger in her eyes, and he stayed silent, not sure what to say, or what to do, before Claire's expression softened, and she smiled again.

"I'm just so happy that you're okay, Steve."

"Yeah…me too…" he smiled a little in return, simply relishing in her mere presence. He was so sure he'd never see her again.

"And you look…you look just how I remember you." She chuckled, still holding his shoulders, squeezing slightly. He forgot how strong she was. "I mean, you're a little taller…"

"Yeah…"

"And your voice sounds the same. I thought it would be deeper."

"…Thanks?"

She laughed, patting his shoulder, smiling again, before looking over at Sherry.

"So, I guess you two know each other?"

Sherry smiled, nodding, and Claire looked so pleased by it, that she actually looked as though she might cry, holding her hand on her chest briefly.

After that, Claire took a seat beside Sherry, and they spent the next hour and a half just talking to each other. Just like the way she opened up around Steve, Sherry was so comfortable and talkative around Claire. It was a perfect picture. Steve sat close by them, simply listening. He didn't really want to butt in on their conversation, and he didn't want to seem as though he was prying, either, so he listened, while carefully examining other objects around the room, only periodically looking back at them both. Once they had all but exhausted their conversation, Claire hugged Sherry tightly, and Steve smiled to himself. Claire was probably the closest thing Sherry had to a mother, now. He was glad that it was Claire. He was sure there was no better female role model.

"You take care, okay?" Claire said to Sherry softly, as she stroked the girl's hair, "And remember, if you ever need anything; anything at all, you just call me."

Sherry nodded and smiled, before she waved slightly to Steve and left the room, leaving him alone with Claire. He watched the door for a while, feeling oddly nervous again now that Sherry was gone.

"Steve?"

He looked at her quickly in response to his name, and Claire was taking the seat next to him, watching him with very noticeable concern in her eyes. There was pity there, too…sadness. He hated that he was the cause of it.

"Are you okay, Steve?" She rested her hand over his on the table, squeezing again. She seemed to do that a lot. Only it wasn't slightly painful like when she'd gripped his shoulders. It was gentle, and thoughtful.

"Y…yeah. I'm okay. Are you okay?"

She looked amused, and chuckled slightly, shaking her head.

"Steve, I'm serious. I understand that you've been through…a lot. And I just want you to know that I'm here for you, okay? If you ever want to talk about anything, then I'm here to listen."

She took a small slip of paper from one of her pockets, holding it out to him.

"This is my cell phone number. I have it with me all the time, so you'll always be able to reach me, okay?"

He took it slowly, glancing at the number that was written there, before tucking it safely into his own pocket, smiling.

"Thanks. B…but I'm okay. Really. I mean…I wasn't okay at first but…I'm feeling a lot better."

She smiled again, nodding.

"Good. Are they treating you well here? I know they can be a little…harsh."

"It's fine…it's a lot better than the last two places I was in."

He chuckled slightly nervously, and Claire's expression softened, her brow lightly furrowed in a mixture of sadness and anger.

"How did you know I was here?" He asked quickly, distracting away from anything that might make her any more upset.

Thankfully, her expression relaxed again.

"Leon contacted me as soon as he could get a hold of me. I've been outside of America for a while, so it wasn't easy, but he told me that he had something important to tell me, and that he wanted to meet me. I didn't really know what to think…I thought it was just job related…I had no idea…"

Steve nodded, staying silent, listening. Hearing somebody else mention Leon's name made his heart flutter slightly uneasily in his chest.

"Then we met up, a few days ago. And when he told me that you were…that you were okay…and that you were here….god…I…"

She paused, reaching into her pocket again and pulling out a small, compact black box, slightly lacquered on the outside. It looked like some kind of make-up, but Claire placed it on the table and gently slid it across in front of Steve, watching his face.

"Leon asked me to give this to you."

Steve froze, looking at Claire, before returning his gaze to the box, staring at it for a while, resting his fingertips on the lid lightly.

"…Thanks."

"Aren't you gonna open it?" she questioned, resting her hand on the table, still watching him. There was something in her expression that was almost…excited.

Steve hesitated a little, before lifting the lid on the box. Inside, there was a small, un-tarnished, silver hoop earring, identical to his own, but brand new, sitting neatly on top of a cushion of black velvet. There was no note, no tag, and no inscription on the box. Just the earring by itself.

He forgot to breathe for a long time, his fingers still on the lid, his eyes fixed, unblinking, on the tiny piece of expensive metal. In all honesty, he didn't know how to react. Of course, his first reaction was happiness and excitement…quickly and closely followed by confusion…and doubt. Why would Leon have bought this for him? Surely buying someone jewellery was a romantic gesture….it was something that you bought for your partner…or maybe a family member…but even that was a stretch. If Leon had bought him this earring, then that meant that Leon noticed a lot more than Steve thought he did…he cared a lot more than Steve thought he did. Clearly, he'd cared enough to notice that Steve needed a new earring, and that his ear was only pierced on one side, and that it was a hoop, and that it was silver…if he had noticed that much, then…

"Steve?"

He was snapped sharply back to reality by Claire's voice, looking over at her quickly, hoping his expression didn't reveal too much about what he was thinking…and how he was feeling.

She looked amused, and chuckled slightly, raising her eyebrows.

"What's wrong?"

"N…nothing…I just…wasn't expecting…this."

"You guys must be pretty close."

Steve gulped, his throat feeling dry and his heart wavering slightly again. He was beginning to feel quite sure that he had somehow developed a heart condition.

"Uh…I guess…I mean…we're friends…"

"You really like him, don't you?"

Steve froze, watching her, as Claire simply smiled at him, a mixture of amusement and questioning in her expression.

"Uh…"

"Steve."

He looked away from the jewellery box and at Claire again, and she raised her eyebrows slowly, as though waiting for him to say something. She didn't look angry, though…or upset, or condescending, or judging. She just looked…oddly happy.

"Y…yeah." He said, finally, almost whispering it.

"I knew it." She chuckled, nodding, mostly to herself.

"What?"

"I just knew." She held her hands up slightly, before resting them against the table again, smiling. "Maybe it's the earring. I don't know."

Steve raised his eyebrows, touching his fingers to his ear briefly.

"…What?"

Claire laughed at his expression.

"Steve, I'm kidding!" She paused briefly. "But seriously, how many straight guys do you know who wear hoop earrings?"

"Claire!"

She laughed again, and Steve couldn't help but laugh himself.

"I'm not gay…I mean…I like Leon…but I'm pretty sure I'm not gay. I like girls."

Claire nodded, shrugging a little, still looking amused, and more than a little pleased with herself.

"So…do you 'like' him? Or do you just like him?"

Steve watched her, his brow furrowing.

"Is that some kind of secret female code? Because I have no idea what you are asking me."

"I mean, do you 'like' him? As more than a crush? From what I heard, you guys were together for a long time. He talked about you a lot, actually."

Steve smiled to himself, and Claire pointed at him.

"That's it! That's it right there. That is how I knew. You get this love-struck look on your face every time I mention something about him."

Steve straightened his face quickly.

"I do not!"

"Yeah, you do." She laughed, nodding.

"Oh god…are you serious?"

"Women's intuition, I guess." She chuckled, waving her hand. "You have nothing to worry about."

"…You can't tell him."

"You're so adorable sometimes."

He smiled, feeling pretty happy with himself, shrugging slightly.

"Well, what can I say…"

"Don't ruin it."

They both laughed.

They stayed there, just talking, for a long time after that. And Steve told her everything. Literally. He told her, in great detail, about everything that had happened to him after he and Claire had separated in Antarctica. Everything about the T-Veronica virus, and his supposed 'death'. And everything about how Leon had saved him…their journey after that. He must have been talking for hours, and Claire just sat there, quietly, listening.

After she left, he spent a long time admiring his earring in the mirror, where he'd replaced the old, tarnished piece with the new one Leon had bought for him. The old one…the one he'd received from his mother, was now placed safely in the little black box, and tucked under his pillow on the bed.

And that's where it was going to stay.

A constant reminder of his roots.

His family.

And a memento of his survival.


	16. Chapter 16

A couple of days after Claire's visit, Steve had undergone his most uncomfortable and invasive test yet. The doctors had decided, without any of Steve's input, he might add, to perform surgery on his arm. As it was the point where he had first been infected with the virus, and the most visibly affected by it, they wanted to open it up and examine the tissue inside, to see how far the virus could potentially spread within the body; to see which areas it could infect, and which were safe or immune. Apparently, T-Veronica was a fairly new strain, and there was still little information about it in comparison to other viral samples.

In any case, he had been conscious when they had performed their 'experiment', and although he had been lightly sedated and given local anaesthesia, he was still highly aware of everything that had been happening. To top it off, the procedure had lasted for two and a half hours. Overall, it was a very unpleasant experience, and left him feeling drowsy and nauseous for a long time afterwards.

Luckily, though, they had been careful, and hadn't left much evidence of the invasion. He had a very thin scar on his arm just above his wrist, and several butterfly stitches, but it was neat and fairly inconspicuous.

What got him the most annoyed, really, was the fact that they hadn't told him anything about it. They told him what the procedure was for, and what they were looking for, but that was pretty much it. He knew nothing about what they had discovered in light of the operation, nor even whether it was good or bad news, but they had assured him that a doctor would inform him of any changes in his status promptly. He wasn't really sure what 'promptly' meant in their dictionary. According to Steve, it meant 'as soon as possible', and they should have informed him within a few hours, but according to 'them', it could be any time within the next few weeks…maybe even months.

About a week after his operation, the stitches in his arm had been removed, and the scar had faded to such a thin line that it was barely visible unless you were looking for it. Although, topped with the greenish skin and the creepy-looking veins, and now the stitch marks, and his arm was starting to look like some kind of prop from a zombie movie. Oh, the irony.

The day after having the stitches removed, though, he was feeling quite lethargic. He wasn't sure whether it was an after effect from the operation, or whether he was just having an 'off day', but he really didn't feel like moving at all. It was ten minutes to seven, and therefore ten minutes until he had to be present at his check-up with one of his doctors, but he still hadn't even left the bed.

Lying on his front, with his face half buried into the pillows, and his left arm hanging off the side of the bed, he could just vaguely see the numbers on his alarm clock through a mess of auburn hair, and instead of moving, as he should have been, he simply lay there and watched the minutes tick by, determined to stay there until someone came in and forcefully dragged him from the pile of sheets he was currently buried under.

He lifted his arm slightly, glancing across the scar briefly, before resting his fingertips against his earlobe, brushing them up to rest against the cold, smooth metal of his earring, gripping it gently between his finger and thumb. He wasn't really sure why, but ever since he'd first had it pierced, he'd found something calming about the feel of it; something comforting about knowing that it was there. When other kids had been biting their nails, or sucking their thumbs, Steve's 'tick' had always been playing with his earring. His mother used to slap his hand whenever he was doing it, telling him that he'd get it infected or accidentally rip it out. Of course, those were both pretty ridiculous notions, but she'd always been over-protective.

In any case, it was more than just some kind of stress relief, or a calming technique. Now, he felt that it gave him some kind of motivation. Maybe it was the sentimentality of it, rather than anything to do with the action itself. First his mother, and now Leon, had both contributed to it; he had a lot of memories attached to that tiny piece of insignificant metal…good memories.

He jumped slightly when he heard a knock on his bedroom door, startled upright. He looked over at the clock…seven A.M. Sighing heavily to himself, he somehow managed to drag himself from the bed, shaking his hair away from his face rather than doing anything to tidy it properly, and lifting his t-shirt from its home on one of the bedposts, pulling it over his head and smoothing it out a little, tying a knot in the drawstrings on the front of his sweatpants…as though that somehow made him tidier.

There was another knock, and someone, in a deep, quite aggressive tone of voice, barked 'Mr Burnside' through the door. He froze slightly, upon the realisation that it was a voice he'd never heard before…and whoever it belonged to, it definitely did not sound happy.

He opened the door slightly cautiously, making sure not to open it all the way, and there was a slightly red-faced, robust man in a suit standing in front of his door, looking down his nose at him.

"…Yeah?"

"You are Steven Burnside. Correct?"

"'Steve' Burnside."

"Steven Burnside, you are being released from the facility today. Please make sure you have collected all of your possessions and then someone will escort you to the office to fill out the necessary paperwork."

"…What? Released? Since when? Why? No one told me a…"

"Please direct your questions to the administrators, Mr Burnside. Everything will be explained to you there."

"…But…"

"Mr Burnside, we have a lot of important duties to attend to today, and you are wasting valuable time. Please collect your things and follow me."

He paused for a while, barely given the time even to think, let alone to act, before he decided just to roll with it, and glanced around the empty bedroom behind him. Collect his things? Was that supposed to be a joke? He had nothing to collect. The only clothes he had were the ones he'd first arrived in, and they'd been taken from him. Other than that, he only had…

He moved over to the bed quickly, sliding his hand under the pillows and pulling out the little black box, tucking it safely into his pocket, before returning to the door, where he was quickly ushered out into the corridor without so much as a 'ready?'.

As well as the man in the suit, there were two of Steve's doctors from the facility, and another staff member, perhaps a secretary of some sort, who was holding a pile of papers in her hands, scribbling on them frantically as they walked, never looking up from whatever it was she was doing, not even to see where she was going.

They briefly stopped at a set of double doors that Steve had often passed in the hallway, but hadn't been through since he'd first arrived. He knew very well that the exit was past those doors, guarded by a complex electronic lock, and past that, the watching eyes of the office staff and security guards. The man in the suit typed in some numbers on the lock and then quickly swiped a card through the slot at the side, the lock beeping loudly and a green light flashing twice underneath the keypad, before the doors swung open, leading onto another, boringly white corridor. It was lined with identical white doors, each emblazoned with a silver plaque, inscribed with the name of whoever it belonged to. Towards the end of the corridor, where there was another electronically guarded entrance, one of the office doors was propped ajar, and the man in the suit turned briskly into that room, with Steve following behind him, still slightly groggy and confused.

The office was fairly large; clinical like the rest of the facility, but there was an expensive-looking leather chair situated behind the desk that showed that it belonged to someone with a status. Probably the man in the suit, Steve thought to himself. The entourage he was being escorted by piled into the room with him, blocking his view briefly, so it took him a lot longer than it should have to notice Leon. Steve froze when he saw him, his mind blanking instantly.

Leon was sitting slightly rigidly in one of the chairs adjacent to the desk, watching them all as they filed into the room. He looked as well as he had the last time Steve had seen him; perfectly presented, but he was dressed smartly in black trousers, a shirt and tie, and he was holding a fountain pen in one of his hands. When his eyes met Steve's, he smiled, and their eyes stayed locked for a long time, before the man in the suit took his place behind the desk, to Steve's irritation, interrupting the moment.

The woman carrying all of the papers placed them on the desk in front of Leon, as he spoke to the man in the suit, and Steve saw Leon sign a few of them, before his view was blocked by the two doctors. One of them was his female doctor, the slightly irritatingly flirty one, and she chuckled and winked as she handed Steve a familiar pile of neatly folded clothes; the ones Leon had bought him in Argentina. She held her hand out towards a door at the other side of the room.

"You can get changed in there."

He thanked her quietly, before hurrying into the room she had pointed to, which he now saw was a bathroom, changing faster than he had ever changed in his life, pulling the boots on last and tugging the laces together tightly. It felt strange, to be wearing normal clothes again. 'Good' strange.

When he returned to the office, Leon and the man in the suit were the only two people left in the room, and they both looked at Steve silently as he walked slightly timidly towards them. Leon looked as though he was about to speak, but the man interrupted him.

"We have everything we need, now, Mr Kennedy, as do you. We won't keep you."

At this, he stood up, and Leon did the same, as they shook hands, before the man turned to Steve.

"You'll be missed, Mr Burnside."

…Yeah, right.

"But as of today, you're not under our care anymore."

This time it was Leon's turn to interrupt, as he stepped between them, effectively putting an end to the little speech of the unfriendly snob in the suit. He smiled, resting his hand on Steve's shoulder.

"You're coming to live with me."


	17. Chapter 17

Once they had finally left the facility, Steve could, for the first time, see what it looked like on the outside. When he had first been brought there, the back windows of the car had been blacked out, blocking his view of where he was being taken, and once he'd been ushered out of the vehicle, which was parked very closely to the front doors, he'd been hurried in through the entrance without even being given the chance to take a breath.

Now, as he followed Leon outside, he stopped a short way from the entrance, and turned around, looking up at the huge, looming building in front of him. It was just how he had pictured it; cold, clinical, uninviting. The outside walls, just like everything on the inside, were white. The front doors were made of thick, impenetrable metal, warning people away, and the windows, of which there were few, were small and high up from the ground, preventing passers-by from accidentally seeing what was inside. It was all very sinister and unwelcoming, yet at the same time, it looked like any other run of the mill office building…deliberately inconspicuous.

Leon had stopped by his side, and looked at the building briefly, before watching Steve, who could see him from the corner of his eye.

"Say your goodbyes, because this is the last time you're gonna see this place. Pretty sure you're not gonna miss it, huh?"

Steve shook his head, taking a deep breath, before looking around slowly. The surrounding environment, of which there was plenty, considering that it seemed so far from civilisation, was just as barren and uninspiring as the building itself, with flat, anaemic scrubland for as far as he could see. It almost looked as though everything around the building had given up and died.

He looked at Leon, their eyes meeting again, and smiled a little, still feeling confused and slightly shaken. He wasn't sure how this had all come about, or what exactly was going to happen to him now, but he knew that he was safe with Leon.

"…What's gonna happen to me now?" He asked quietly, staring at the gravel by Leon's feet.

The older male paused, and Steve could still feel Leon's eyes on him.

"C'mon, we'll talk in the car."

Steve looked up to see a rather expensive-looking black Mercedes parked on the gravel a short distance from them, and did as he was told, getting into the passenger's seat as Leon took his place behind the wheel, fastening his seatbelt.

"Is this your car?"

Leon chuckled slightly, turning the key in the ignition, the engine sounding. It was a soft, low rumble; not unpleasant at all. It was definitely an expensive car.

Steve had earned a little pocket money in an auto shop once in the middle of high school. He enjoyed the feeling of being able to fix something with his bare hands…using a mixture of strength and skill. It reflected somewhat on his feelings for things he couldn't fix with tools. Things that had to be fixed with words…things that involved emotions…he was never really good at fixing those things.

"It's a rental." Leon answered simply. "There's kinda no point in having my own car. I travel around too much. Never stay in one place."

Steve nodded, fastening his own seatbelt as they pulled away from the facility. He watched it disappear in the rear view mirror. The sense of relief he felt at finally being able to leave it behind was slightly overshadowed by his pity for what he was leaving behind.

"What's gonna happen to Sherry?"

Leon looked at Steve briefly as he turned out of the driveway and onto the road.

"She'll be fine. Her situation isn't the same as yours. She's still just a kid, and they know that. She gets the best room, Birthday parties, special trips. That kind of thing. Besides, she's got Claire to take care of her. And she's been there for a long time already, they'll start giving her a lot more freedom as she gets older…and they have what they want. They already know a lot about the G-Virus…"

"Do you visit her?"

Leon paused for a little longer than usual, and Steve saw a hint of pain in his expression as he shook his head.

"No. I'm not allowed to."

"Why?"

"It was either Claire, or me. And we decided that it would be best for Sherry if it was Claire. She's a young girl, after all. She needs someone like Claire."

Steve nodded, and they were silent for a while, before he looked at Leon again.

"So…what happens now? I don't understand any of this…"

Leon's expression softened slightly, and he smiled.

"It's exactly as I said: you're coming to live with me."

"I don't get it…how can they just let me leave?"

"Well, it wasn't easy, but I managed to persuade them. It took a lot of effort, and a lot of paperwork, but they agreed that you could be released…as long as you were under my supervision."

"Oh…"

"Basically, you're old enough that you can live on your own already, but they see you as a threat. You're old enough to make your own decisions, and they see that as something dangerous. You also know a lot more than you're supposed to. About the viruses, about Umbrella, about me and my work. Honestly, that's the main reason you were being detained, not T-Veronica. Of course, that's a part of it, but it's obvious that you have the virus under control and it's not an immediate risk to them or to anyone else. They see you, yourself, as the threat."

"…I guess that makes sense."

"It does. But that doesn't mean it was the right thing to do. They had no right to take you like that…But they don't need a right…they have enough power to do it, and enough leverage. With your record from Rockfort prison, they could pretty much convict you of whatever they wanted and use it against you, if they had to. Which is why I'm gonna make sure nothing like that ever happens to you."

Steve smiled slightly to himself.

"Thank you. For everything."

Leon glanced at him, also smiling, before returning his eyes to the road.

"Don't mention it. I want to do this. I'm not gonna let them take you away…like they did with Sherry."

"She doesn't deserve it."

Leon stayed quiet again for a while, before nodding.

"No…she doesn't. But I guess life has a way of throwing all kinds of crap at people who don't deserve it. Just like Sherry. And just like you."

Steve gulped a little, holding his hands together in his lap, and Leon looked at him briefly again. The road they were driving on was pretty devoid of other vehicles, and was straight, so it was quiet, and the journey was easy.

"So, I hope you didn't have any other plans, because you're gonna be living with me for the foreseeable future." Leon chuckled slightly, and Steve did too.

"Oh, sure, my week was absolutely jam packed. I was gonna sit around and stare at the ceiling for like five hours this afternoon. You totally jacked up my schedule."

Leon laughed, looking at him briefly again.

"…You look good. I mean, you look healthy. You have no idea how much of a relief that is."

Steve looked at him, shrugging slightly.

"I had nothing else to do, so I was doing a lot of swimming…and reading. It was like the cheapest college ever. And there was free food."

Leon chuckled, looking back at the road, turning at a junction. At this point, Steve could finally see buildings in the distance. There was life nearby, after all. Leon's expression softened to a more serious one for a while, before he spoke, the tone in his voice slightly lighter and gentler than before.

"You know what…I really missed you."

Steve froze up slightly, his heart literally stopping for a second, before he breathed out slowly, trying not to make his awkwardness obvious.

"…I missed you too."

Leon looked at him again, their eyes meeting for only a second, but there was something in Leon's eyes that made Steve literally shudder. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was…but it looked very unexpectedly and confusingly like desire.

For the rest of the car journey, which must have taken several hours, and lead on to evening, Leon requested that Steve tell him about his experience in the facility, and what he had learned about the T-Veronica virus. According to the agreement of Steve's release, Leon was to report anything unusual in Steve's behaviour or his health, and send them weekly reports, as well as blood samples. Apparently, there was a clinic close to Leon's apartment, where Steve was required to go once every two months, for a more thorough and precise examination, but other than that, he was free from constant observation. As long as the virus stayed under his control, his tests would gradually lessen, and eventually, he would be rid of them altogether.

They pulled up outside a fairly modern-looking, high-rise building at about eight o'clock in the evening, and Leon parked the car in a small, residential lot close by. By the time they had made the way up to the top floor of the building, where Leon's apartment was, Steve was already feeling pretty tired. Aside from being forced daily to get out of bed and have needles poked into his body at seven A.M, he had also recently gone through surgery, and subsequently, hadn't been sleeping well, so it wasn't his fault that he was so lethargic, as Leon had kindly pointed out.

Leon's apartment was impressive. It was quite small, and compact, but very modern and tidy. Everything had a place on some shelf or in a cupboard, or hidden away in a secret compartment in the wall, and the only telltale sign of a person actually living there was Leon's trademark fleece jacket hanging up by the door, and a half drunk bottle of water on the fancy kitchen 'island'. Basically all of the main living space was made up of a joint living room, kitchen and dining room, with a small section of wall separating part of the living room almost into its own area. Aside from that, there were two double bedrooms, slightly smaller than average, but each with its own little bathroom. According to Leon, he'd originally been using the second bedroom as an office and a general work space.

"Well, what do you think?" Leon smiled, dropping the car keys into a tiny, glass bowl on one of the kitchen counters. "It's pretty small, but it gets the job done. I don't stay here very often, but this is kinda my base. Even guys like me get vacation time. And plus I have all this fancy stuff in the kitchen…that I never use." He chuckled, looking back at the kitchen briefly.

Steve chuckled, nodding.

"Yeah. It's nice. It's more than nice…"

Leon looked pleased, going over to one of the doors along the little corridor and opening it, looking back at Steve.

"Here. This is your room, now."

Steve followed him over to the room, looking inside. It was quite small, and plain, but it was tidy, and comfortable-looking. There was a double bed at the centre of the back wall, dressed with plain white sheets. The walls were beige, and there was a plush white armchair in one corner, next to an empty bookshelf and a dresser. There was also a wardrobe, and a small desk and chair. There was a silver laptop sitting on the desk, with the plastic wrap still around it.

Steve barely knew what to say.

"…Are you serious?"

"…Is that a good thing? You like it, right? I mean, it's pretty bare, now, but I just put the furniture in. You can decorate it however you want."

"I…y…yeah…it's…this is amazing…I can't even…"

"Okay, relax, it's just a room. The walls are beige, Steve." Leon chuckled, watching the younger male.

"No, I mean…" Steve laughed slightly tiredly, "It's way better than what I pictured…"

"Well, I'm glad you like it. Oh, and the laptop's yours, too. I didn't wanna open it, because, well, you know, that's like the best part. Thought you'd wanna open it yourself."

"…You got me a laptop?"

"Don't feel bad about it. It's from work. They give me all sorts of free stuff. I just asked them for a new laptop and they practically threw it at me. Besides, everyone has a computer nowadays, it's something that can just be 'yours', you know?"

Steve just stood there, feeling completely exhausted and completely overwhelmed and completely and utterly…in love. And not with the laptop. If he hadn't already been sure of it before, then he was sure of it now.

He was in love with Leon.

That was it.


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, Steve awoke feeling better than he had in a long time. The bed was comfortable. It was quiet. There were no doctors trying to break his door down so that they could poke him in inappropriate places. It was just…peaceful. What's more, he had had one of those nights of deep, dreamless sleep where you wake up feeling as though you are actually awake and actually 'want' to get out of bed.

This was his home, now.

And it felt so much like home.

When he turned his head, he could see the alarm clock sitting neatly on the bedside table. It wasn't the same intimidating, shrill little piece of white, boxy plastic as the one he'd had at the facility that scared him awake every morning, this one was made of the same, smooth, attractive wood as the furniture in his new bedroom, circular and stylish. The numbers on the little electronic screen were cool, luminescent blue, glowing softly, and when it reached its mark, it did not beep or ring, but delicate, classical music started to play from the tiny speakers at either side. When he sat up, and reached over to turn it off, his movement disrupted the sheets and he caught the scent of lightly fragranced laundry detergent. It was not overwhelming…just…pleasant. Everything was pleasant. Everything was comfortable. Everything was neat, and tidy, and elegant. It was almost as though everything in the apartment reflected something of Leon's personality.

And that was what made it so perfect.

It was nine thirty. Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd had the privilege of being able to sleep for so long. After he'd got up, and, notably, tidied the bed, he opened the dresser to find a couple of pairs of jeans and some plain t-shirts, as well as a pack of underwear. It felt weird, and slightly uncomfortable, knowing not only that Leon had spent so much time, money and effort buying him all these new things and setting up the room for him, but had also chosen his underwear. A part of him really wished that Claire had bought it and given it to Leon…because for some reason that seemed less embarrassing, now.

Once he was dressed, he brushed his teeth and fixed his hair in front of the mirror in his own little bathroom. That was going to take some getting used to. It had been so long since he'd had his own 'anything', that now he had all of these things, he wasn't sure what to make of them all. It was a little bit overwhelming, to say the least.

He paused slightly on his way out of the bathroom when he heard movement elsewhere in the apartment, listening. He heard footsteps, and what sounded like cupboards being opened. Of course, it was obvious that Leon was awake already; Leon 'always' got up before Steve did.

When he opened the door to his bedroom, stepping out into the little hallway slowly, he could see Leon in the kitchen around the corner. He was already dressed, naturally, and looking flawless, as usual, and was casually working on something by the stove, part of his hair tucked neatly behind one of his ears. Steve could only stand there, silently, with his back rested against the wall, watching him, admiring the profile of the man's face…the way the bridge of his nose was so perfectly curved…the way his eyelashes were a little thicker…a little longer, and his lips just slightly more pronounced…and slightly softer, than the average male, giving him such beautiful, delicate masculinity that Steve was sure it was impossible for any human being to be so utterly irresistible.

"Good morning." Leon said suddenly, with a light undertone of amusement in his voice.

Steve coughed awkwardly, closing his bedroom door and approaching him, swearing quite profusely at himself inside his head.

"Uh…good…good morning."

"Did you sleep well?" Leon looked at him, smiling, clearly ignoring the fact that he had noticed Steve staring at him. He didn't seem to care, anyway.

Steve took a seat at the kitchen island, on one of the tall, bar-like stools that lined the edge of it, nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks. Uh…did you?"

It was strange, how, Steve, the guy who could quite happily mention porn and tell painfully awful jokes in front of girls he was hitting on, couldn't string together one, tiny, coherent sentence when he was talking to Leon.

Leon shrugged, nodding, chuckling slightly.

"Are you hungry? I made pancakes." He held up the pan that was sitting on the stove, as though to prove his point. "I don't usually cook, because, as you already know, I can't…but I guess we can call this a special occasion."

Steve chuckled, nodding, looking briefly at the centre of the island, where there was a large plate of slightly oddly shaped pancakes.

"They look good."

Leon laughed, filling the pan with cold water, watching it briefly as it hissed, and a cloud of steam rose up to the ceiling, before placing it back down, sitting next to Steve.

"You don't have to lie. They look like crap. But they probably taste good, because I didn't make the batter, I got it from a packet."

Steve nodded, amused, taking a plate of the suspicious, not-quite-pancakes when Leon passed it to him, practically drowning them in maple syrup. Not entirely because of Leon's questionable cooking…he just had a sweet tooth.

Leon ate one without anything on it, before taking a mouthful of coffee from the mug next to him, getting up again and going over to a storage cupboard by the front door, rummaging around inside.

"I have something for you."

Steve ate a mouthful of what was mostly maple syrup, swallowing and watching him questioningly.

"You really don't have to get me anything else…you've done more than en…"

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that." Leon shook his head, closing the cupboard with his elbow, returning to Steve's side holding a neat, brown package, placing it on the counter next to him. "It's something that's being returned to you."

Steve watched it for a short while, wondering what it could possibly be. He was sure he hadn't left anything at the facility…he didn't have anything to leave. And before that…well…he had even less.

Leon took his own empty plate, putting it into the dishwasher, before closing it with his foot, watching Steve quietly, as he began to unwrap the brown, paper packaging.

Inside, there was another layer, this time of some kind of foamy material, and inside that a thick, soft piece of cloth, wrapped around whatever it was the mysterious package contained. He glanced at Leon, as though waiting for a clue, but the older male simply smiled, and nodded back towards the parcel, urging him to keep going. Steve unfolded the material slowly, feeling himself literally freeze up for a second when he realised what was underneath.

Sitting spectacularly atop the bundle of packaging and cloth, were a pair of indescribably stunning gold luger pistols, each with intricate leaf-patterned engraving carved delicately into the rear of the barrel and all the way across the grip. The very same lugers he had fallen in love with on Rockfort Island, and the same that had been lost in Antarctica almost two years ago. He was positive, that in the flawlessly finished condition they were in now, these could not be the same guns. Yet, he was also sure that there were only one pair of these rare creations ever made.

"These were recovered from the expedition in Antarctica, in the same facility where I found you. Considering the fact that I was the lead agent in that particular case, they were shown to me. We couldn't get any evidence from them, so they were just gonna be sold off. Luckily, I happened to mention it to Claire, and she gave an official statement saying that they belonged to you. She was proven to be there at the time they were lost in Antarctica, and so her statement was approved, and they are now being returned to you."

"…For real?"

"Yes." Leon nodded, slightly amused, watching the boy's face.

"But we found these on Rockfort Island…they're not even mine…"

"They are now."

"…Holy crap."

Leon laughed, picking his coffee back up, sipping it.

Steve stared at the lugers for a long time, before resting his fingers against the grip of the one on the right, picking it up slowly. It was quite heavy, and cold, but it fit perfectly into his hand. It was exactly the same as he remembered it being the first time he'd picked them up. These were the same guns, alright.

"They were in pretty poor condition, considering how long they'd just been sitting around, but it was mostly dirt." Leon began, as he took his seat again next to Steve. "I had them cleaned up, checked that everything was working, and voila."

"I can't believe this…"

"But there is one condition."

Steve looked at Leon, replacing the gun carefully to its former position with the other, slightly worried that he was not going to like the catch. Leon paused for a short while, as though mulling over what he was going to say.

"Now, this is pretty important, so I'm gonna tell you right now what the deal is." He placed the mug back on the counter, turning on the stool to face the younger male properly. "I want you to work with me."

Steve nodded slightly. "Yeah, I'm listening."

"No…" Leon chuckled slightly, holding one of his hands up, before resting it against the counter. "Not metaphorically. I want you to come and work with me…at my job."

"…Huh?"

"The thing is…you already know almost as much as I do about Umbrella. You know 'more' than I do about the viral strains they work with. You already have experience…firsthand experience. More experience, in fact, than some of the other agents have had. Not only that, but the people who employ me already know everything about you. Maybe they don't trust you yet…but they know that you 'can't' go against them. And they know that 'I' trust you. So…they agreed, that as long as I can make sure you're ready within the next couple of months, you can work for us…you can work 'with' us."

Steve gulped slightly, nodding a little, slowly, glancing at the lugers on the counter. It was true, of course, that he had experience. If they wanted him to kill zombies, then he could kill zombies, and more besides. And he sure as hell hated Umbrella, and whatever it was they were doing that turned people into monsters and spread incurable tyrant viruses like T-Veronica. What's more…wasn't this what he'd wanted all along? He'd spent the whole time worshipping Leon and his selfless, super agent status…but wasn't a small part of that 'jealousy'? He remembered the thrill he got from firing a gun…from watching a bullet spin flawlessly from the barrel of one of those gorgeous golden lugers and into the head of one of those un-dead monsters. The thought that he could do that for the rest of his life…and that he could save people along the way, like Leon had saved him…and that he could earn money for doing it…and that he could do it all with…

"Heck yeah I want to!"

Leon looked slightly taken aback, watching him, before laughing.

"Well…have you thought about it properly? I mean, are you sure that…"

"Yes! God…I want to. I really…you have no idea how much I want to!"

"Okay…calm down." Leon chuckled, holding one of his hands up. "This is kind of a life changing decision, so you should probably…"

"Oh my god…this is the greatest day of my life…"

"Steve..."

"I can't…I honestly can't even…"

"Steve!"

Steve stopped, looking at Leon and closing his mouth quickly, nodding.

"Sorry."

"If you are really sure that you want to do this, then there are a few things we have to sort out, first."

Steve nodded, quietly.

Leon smiled, watching him, and they sat there for a while, silently, before Leon held out his hand, and took Steve's, squeezing it fairly tightly in his own.

"I look forward to working with you, partner."


	19. Chapter 19

The day after Steve had become Leon's new 'protégée', Leon had prepared a special trip further inland to a firing range. Firstly, so that he could see how well Steve could handle a gun, and secondly, so that Steve could acquire a license, without which he wouldn't even be able to use the lugers he'd just been reunited with.

It was testament to Leon's ability to bypass any laws or regulations, that, despite the fact that Steve was still only nineteen, and barely even that, Leon had managed to somehow convince his 'higher-ups' to allow Steve a license to use a handgun. Given the fact that he'd already used one, several times over, albeit illegally, and with the reiteration of Claire's testimony, they had agreed that he was competent enough to wield a firearm. Not only that, but Leon had also noted, to Steve's delight, that after his initial training, he'd also be issued with a license towards the use of larger weapons such as a shotgun or a rifle. He was already old enough for such a license, but had had no prior training in any kind of firearm other than his trademark lugers.

In any case, Steve was more than a little excited about the entire prospect, and spent a lot of his time the previous day wound up to the point that he couldn't stop talking and asking questions. Rather than being irritated by it, though, Leon seemed to find it amusing, and only encouraged Steve's enthusiasm, occasionally showing similar zeal himself.

It took them about four hours to drive to the firing range Leon had booked, and they spent most of the journey talking, and singing along to cheesy old music on the radio. Steve delighted in the fact that Leon never got tired of the younger male's 'energy'; he never got annoyed at him or disapproved of something he said, or did. Steve was sure that he even irritated 'himself' sometimes, so why his personality never bothered Leon, he had no clue.

While they were listening to the radio, though, Steve realised how out of the loop he was. They played a lot of contemporary music; all the kind of thing the 'youth of today' was supposed to be listening to and enjoying, but Steve didn't recognise any of it…he didn't even like most of it. Maybe that was the reason he got on so well with Leon. Although he was only nineteen, and still embodied a lot of such vivacious, boyish qualities, he sometimes thought that his mind was older than his body. Perhaps it had something to do with everything he'd been through, and everything he'd seen; it was far from the lifestyle of a boy his age. It was just as Sherry's manner and personality reflected the wisdom of years much greater than her own…Steve saw some of that in himself.

By the time they arrived at the firing range, it was early afternoon, and they stopped at a nearby café to eat lunch, before entering the destination building. It was large and boring looking. Steve considered that something as exciting as a place where you shoot things for fun would be a lot more…well…exciting. Everything was grey, and made of concrete. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, maybe even the furniture; the chairs were uncomfortable enough. But when it finally came his turn, Steve felt himself getting restless with eager anticipation again, as he was given a pair of protective goggles and some gloves, which he decided against; he preferred to be able to feel the gun in his hands properly. Leon agreed.

He fired off a few shots at the first target, which was a large, rectangular, white board, with red target lines painted across the front, and a dot at the centre. The pistol he'd been given was very slightly heavier and bulkier than the delicate golden lugers he was used to, and the recoil was stronger, stinging one of his wrists a little the first time he fired, but the targets hit their mark, leaving neat bullet holes scattered quite close to the central, red circle. Feeling rather proud of himself, he looked to Leon, who was standing a little way behind him, looking just as pleased, and clapping.

"Nice work. You have a pretty steady aim."

"I told you." He chuckled, looking back at the board, briefly. "Just gimme five minutes and I bet you twenty bucks I can hit the centre."

"No one's making any bets. We're agents, not gangsters, so keep it professional. This is serious business." Leon said firmly, but still sniggered slightly in amusement. "Besides, you don't even have twenty dollars."

"That is sadly true."

"If you stopped trying to show off, your accuracy would probably be better."

Steve scoffed, shaking his hair out of his eyes, still holding the pistol firmly between both hands, looking down the sight, before freezing up considerably when he saw Leon's hands reach over his shoulders and rest over his own, lifting his aim slightly, before moving away again.

"W…what was…?"

"Your arms weren't straight."

"…Oh…"

He heard Leon chuckle slightly in amusement behind him, and began to suspect, not only that Leon was trying to distract him, but moreover, that Leon knew a lot more than he ever revealed. He was very good at keeping his thoughts and his feelings hidden, and Steve had grown a little frustrated over this fact. If Leon ever did feel anything for the boy more than the warmth of a student/teacher type relationship, or just friendship, then Steve would probably never even notice.

Steve fired a few more shots, but the result was the same as last time. The bullet holes were quite close to the centre, and strayed mostly within the central 'ring', but none of them even touched the edges of the red dot in the middle. He knew he was better than that.

"God damnit," Steve sighed quietly, lowering the gun.

"You're not focused enough."

"I am focused!"

"No," Leon approached him again, this time standing at his side, taking the gun from Steve's hand firmly, looking over at the target, "You're nervous because you're trying to prove that you're good at this, right? Your stance is all tense. You need to stay straight, and keep steady, but if you're too rigid, then you're more likely to hurt yourself with the recoil."

At this, Leon lifted the pistol between both of his hands, still watching the target, his eyes fixed, unblinking, upon the central mark. His arms and back were perfectly straight and

still, but it didn't look forced, or uncomfortable. He made it look completely natural, as he fired a single, clean bullet at the target, hitting the red dot almost dead centre, not even flinching the slightest bit from the recoil.

Steve stayed still for a while, watching the hole through the centre of the board, before sighing heavily, looking back at Leon.

"Yeah, yeah. Who's showing off now?"

Leon chuckled, lowering the gun again.

"It's called 'teaching'. I am allowed to be an asshole to you. Those are the rules of being a good instructor."

"You're not my 'teacher'. You're only, like, five years older than me," Steve folded his arms, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Four years, actually."

"Smartass."

Leon raised an eyebrow a little, reloading the pistol whilst looking at Steve as though it was second nature.

"I am so gonna give you detention for that."

"Are you for real?"

"I am one hundred percent serious."

Steve chuckled, leaning against the barrier that separated their booth from another.

"Hey, I am old enough to be in college."

"Yeah, I bet you'd be one of those guys who spent his entire freshman year passed out on the couch surrounded by empty cans and pizza boxes," Leon chuckled, cocking the pistol.

"Nu-uh. I take education very seriously."

"How many times were you late for class in high school?"

"Almost every day…but that's not the point. I'm a heavy sleeper."

Leon chuckled, clearly amused, looking at him.

"Oh, and I bet you were Mr. Perfect in high school, huh?" Steve raised his eyebrows.

"I was…average." Leon shrugged.

"Average? How could someone like you just be 'average'? I mean, you're like the opposite of average…you're like that one guy in school who 'everyone' likes, and who's at the top of every class, and who's even good at sports and joins every team, even the chess team and all the science junk, and who all the girls wanna go out with. And every other guy in school hates that guy, but they secretly wanna 'be' that guy."

Leon laughed, "You really do have quite the imagination."

"Well, even if you weren't that guy in high school, you're that guy 'now'."

"Is that really what you think?"

"Yeah. Obviously. I mean, you're perfect."

Even as the words left his mouth, he heard himself say them almost in slow motion, like some kind of surreal, out-of-body experience where he was watching himself say it from an omniscient alternate universe. But in that universe, although he could see everything that was happening, he was powerless to stop it, and so could only watch in horror as real-world Steve was being an embarrassing idiot.

There was a short, but awkward silence after that, before Leon reached over and slid the pistol into Steve's hand instead, his fingertips lingering against Steve's wrist just a little longer than was really necessary. Steve caught onto it quickly, but decided to brush it away as accidental. Maybe it was even pity.

"Let's carry on with practice. We still have forty minutes left."

Steve's heart sank a little.

It wasn't as though he had confessed his undying love or anything, but he was quite sure that if you told someone that you thought they were perfect, there were definitely romantic feelings involved. Maybe Leon didn't think so, and hadn't noticed it. Yet, there was something in the way he'd touched Steve's hand as he passed him the gun, something in the way his voice had softened just a little as he spoke afterwards, that told Steve all he needed to know.

Leon clearly knew.

And the fact that he had ignored it so quickly, teamed with his sudden change in attitude, revealed that Leon was attempting to let him down lightly. It was a delicate form of rejection.

If anything, though, it only made Steve feel worse.

They spent the final forty minutes of their time in the booth almost in complete silence, with Steve still trying, and failing, to hit the centre of the target. He didn't even get close. Occasionally, Leon would compliment a shot, or give him short, simple pointers, but other than that, they didn't speak. Steve wouldn't even know what to say if he did.

Once their time was up, they filled in a lot of paperwork in another cold, depressing room with limited conversation, before Steve was issued with his license. Leon took care of most of the details, talking to the people in charge and giving them sheets and certificates and identification cards, never giving Steve the opportunity to do any of it himself. He spent the majority of the time sitting on a boring, metal bench in the boring, concrete hallway, drinking a boring cup of weak coffee from the nearby machine.

By the time they had eaten dinner at the nearby take-out place, and were back in the car, it was already nine thirty, and Steve felt tired. Not particularly aching or sleep-deprived or hard-day's-work kind of tired…just…drained.

As they pulled away from the city, and became part of the quiet, steady rush of freeway traffic, Steve turned to face the passenger's side window and tugged his hood up over his head, concealing his eyes slightly in shadow, hoping to dull the remainder of the journey with sleep.

But it could not dull the ache in his chest.


	20. Chapter 20

Steve awoke to the comforting rumble of the engine and the gentle sound of sparse, late night traffic as steadily moving vehicles rushed occasionally past his window on their ceaseless journey.

They were still on the freeway, and it was dark outside now, but for the towering lampposts lining the edges of the road like stoic, stone sentinels, lighting the black of the tarmac with a soft, firelight glow. Rather than scrubland or fields, the road now passed through a dense, forested area, with thick gatherings of dark-leafed trees at either side, blocking everything else from sight. Everything but the road.

Steve just felt comfortable, and warm, and relaxed. He loved long journeys like this. The freedom of being able to go wherever your heart desired. The peace of the road, the train tracks, or even the sky. Whether it was a car, a train, a plane, or a boat, within these colossal, mobile machines, you were safe from the outside world. Safe from hatred, and fear, and responsibility, and able to lose yourself in your own thoughts. And sometimes…just sometimes, the person you cared most about in the world could be right by your side, sharing the journey with you.

Steve turned his head slightly, looking at Leon from the corner of his eye, and couldn't help but smile to himself. He had overreacted when Leon hadn't returned his feelings, and he felt guilty for it. It didn't really matter that Leon didn't feel the same way…it didn't matter at all, actually. They were still here, now, together. Their friendship mattered more than anything else in the world to him. That was all that was important.

He shifted in the seat, taking the weight off his right shoulder, and rested back into it, brushing back a small section of hair that had been shifted by the hood of his jacket and fallen across his cheek.

Leon noticed the movement, and looked at him briefly, smiling. The reflection of amber light from the road lit his silvery irises like fire.

"Hey," His voice was gentle, and comforting, "Welcome back."

Steve chuckled sleepily.

"You must be bored out of your mind. You could've woken me."

Leon shook his head a little, his eyes back on the road. He smiled again, but it was mostly to himself.

"No, I didn't want to. You looked too cute."

Steve exhaled slightly sharply in amusement, as Leon turned the car down onto a side road, through a canopy of trees. The soft, buzz of the freeway slowly drifted into silence as they moved further away, and they pulled up into the car park outside a small gas station. The car park was completely empty, and, clearly no extrovert, Leon stopped the car right in one of the corners of the squared lot, where it was slightly concealed by trees and shadow. Steve looked at him, chuckling slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were planning a kidnapping. Will I be in the way or do you want me to hold the chloroform?"

Leon rolled his eyes slightly, amused.

"I just don't like to draw attention to myself."

"Gotcha."

"I'm getting a coffee. Do you want anything?"

Steve shook his head slightly, smiling, as Leon got out of the car, closing the door softly behind him, giving Steve a thumbs-up through the window, before disappearing into the store, his hands in his coat pockets.

Steve looked at the fancy electronic window on the dashboard. It was almost midnight, and definitely more than a little cold outside. He couldn't see much from the car other than what was illuminated by the lights from the gas station windows, and the small neon sign, but it looked as though there was a very thin, early frost on the ground, and outside the parking lot, the very end of each delicate blade of grass growing there was tipped with crystallising dew, catching the light and scattering the field in opalescent glitter.

When Leon returned to the car, Steve caught the faint, but very distinguishable aroma of chocolate, and a light, rush of chilled air that was disturbed by the closing of the car door brought with it the crisp smell of winter. Although it was only the middle of autumn, the two scents combined filled Steve's head with images of tiny, colourful lights and thick, itchy sweaters. A traditional Christmas. Just as it had always been when he was at home with his parents. He began to imagine what Christmas would be like with Leon. Probably the same. Simple; nothing too fancy or over the top. Maybe there'd be a tree in his apartment…'their' apartment…and a few lights. Leon didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd throw a big party on such an occasion. It would probably be quiet. Just the two of them…

"I thought you were getting coffee," Steve noted, tucking his hands subconsciously into the warmth of the pockets on his jacket.

"Well, it should only be about twenty more minutes before we get home, so I don't really need a boost. Besides, I think I probably drink too much coffee."

"You think?"

They both laughed, each gaze fixed upon the other.

"Well, they do really good hot chocolate here, anyway."

He removed the plastic lid from the cup slowly, and a pocket of steam rose up towards the windscreen, clouding up a large section of the glass, and filling the inside of the car with the rich, inviting aroma. He sipped the drink, before holding it out towards Steve.

"Here. Try it."

Steve took the paper cup carefully between both hands as he removed them from his pockets, feeling the heat of the liquid thawing the cold from his fingertips immediately. He took a small mouthful, letting it rest on his tongue briefly, before swallowing. It was thick, and creamy, and just the right kind of 'chocolate-y' that hot chocolate should be. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Just right.

He passed the cup back to Leon, nodding in approval, licking some of the sugary aftertaste from his top lip.

"Yeah, it's good."

Leon watched him for a while, still holding the cup between his palms, before tucking it down into the cup holder near the handbrake, reaching over and gently wiping his thumb across the corner of Steve's lips, his hand rested just lightly against his chin.

"You, uh…you got…"

And before Steve even had time to react to the first gesture, Leon's lips were on his own, kissing him quite forcefully, his hand on the boy's jaw close to his neck, fingers locked gently but firmly into a small section of auburn hair.

Steve's first reaction was to freeze up completely, as he felt his heart thumping roughly in his chest with the immediate quickening of his pulse, and could only stare, with a mixture of shock and stunned vacancy, at the blur of dark blonde hair that was fixed in his vision as it fell across and covered the side of Leon's face.

It ended as quickly as it had begun, before Steve ever had a chance to react and return the affection, as Leon pulled their lips apart, his palm still cupped delicately against the firm skin at the younger male's jaw. Piercing, steely blue-gray eyes fixed upon stunning, emerald green as they continued to watch each other, both males slightly breathless in the heat of the moment.

Steve remained stunned into a literal 'blank', his brain flipping quickly back and forth between working overtime to try and register the situation, and not doing anything at all. He could hear his pulse thumping loudly in his ears, and his chest felt so tight that he was quite sure that this was the beginning of some kind of reactive panic attack, but he couldn't even think enough to worry about it.

Before Leon could consider his actions to be poorly judged, Steve reached his hand up hesitantly, lightly trembling fingers brushing aside the section of Leon's hair that had fallen forward, softly grazing the edge of his thumb across Leon's cheek bone, greeted with warm, soft skin even more pleasing to the touch than he had imagined it to be. Thankfully, Leon took this as a sign of consent, and leaned back across the gap between the two seats, ghosting their lips together, causing Steve's skin to tingle. Clearly more careful of his actions than before, and watching the boy's eyes for any kind of signal, he then placed a delicate kiss at the corner of Steve's closed mouth, then another against his cheek, and another on the soft bow of his bottom lip, sliding his hand around onto the back of Steve's neck and his fingers further into his hair, their eyes still meeting in a heated gaze. Steve could do nothing but stay still, and allow Leon to do whatever he wished...to let him see how much his young companion would be willing to let him do. To let him see how much he wanted it.

His first chance to properly reciprocate came when Leon pressed his mouth against Steve's own, lightly at first…testing…just enjoying the feel of their lips together, enjoying the shudder he saw it send down the boy's spine, and the building lust mingling within their heated breath. Once Leon had properly moved into the kiss, Steve returned it with equal vigour, mimicking Leon's movements and allowing him access wherever he wanted it; to the opening between his lips, to the inside of his mouth, to the parting between his thighs, which he silently begged to be explored as Leon rested his free hand against Steve's knee.

To Steve's dismay, however, Leon's hand never strayed any higher, never even moved at all. Simply rested there against the soft material of his jeans as he teased every inch of Steve's mouth with his tongue. First his lips, slightly swollen from the attention, then the gentle ridges of his teeth, then the sensitive skin at the roof of his mouth, every time meriting little shudders and soft, desperate noises from his young friend. Steve moved his tongue against Leon's when he was allowed, taking the opportunity to lean closer, his fingers gripping slightly impulsively at the fleece collar of Leon's jacket, pulling, urging him forward.

And the kiss quickly deepened; became more passionate as rational thought and reason appeared to slip, unnoticed, from Leon's mind. Steve became vaguely aware that he couldn't even breathe; that their lips hadn't parted since the act began, and that his throat was beginning to sting from the absence of breath…but he didn't care.

The kiss lasted minutes…maybe longer. Steve couldn't really tell, so lost in the passion of it as he was, his body moving of its own accord, and his brain not doing much at all. But then it was over, and Leon was moving away, after placing a last, lingering kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth, leaving the boy in a breathless and love struck stupor.

And all that Steve could think of was how much more he wanted.

How much he wanted Leon to see the way his body ached for him.

…and how he would give it to him gladly.


	21. Chapter 21

Steve lay awake in his bed that night, in the dark, fully clothed, his mind swimming, still twisted into lust, confusion and doubt over the events of the past few hours.

After the kiss, Leon had started up the car again without another word, and they had driven the rest of the way back in painful, nail-bitingly tense silence. Occasionally, one of them would look at the other, their eyes lingering for a while in quiet desperation as they tried to form the right kind of words to say, before returning back to the road, leaving them once more in an uncomfortable daze. Steve had reverted to keeping his eyes on the black felt floor of the car by his feet, his hands twisted together awkwardly in his lap in a feeble attempt to keep the tightness of his jeans hidden from notice.

Once they had returned to the apartment, it had been past midnight. Leon had stopped in front of Steve long enough to force eye contact, smiling slightly apologetically and rubbing the boy's shoulder, assuring him that they would talk in the morning, before retreating into his room and closing the door, leaving Steve to attempt to pull himself together and resist the desperate urge to follow him.

And now he was in his room, lying in the same position he had dropped into on his bed as he'd entered, his feet still on the floor, his arm curved over his face, wishing to some kind of holy being he didn't even believe in that everything would be okay; that the situation would just…fix itself. Although…if he was really wishing for something…he wished, more than anything, that Leon would come into his room right now and…

…and what?

Would he even know what he was doing? Steve knew a lot about sex, sure, but he had no experience. He'd kissed a girl…once…when he was about fifteen, and that was the extent of his knowledge. All he knew about sex, he knew from dirty magazines and porn, and that stuff wasn't exactly realistic. And aside from 'that', he definitely didn't know how it would go down between two guys. Well…of course he knew 'how' it would work…but he'd never thought about it too clearly before. In his curiosity, he'd occasionally looked at 'that' kind of website, but he'd never had any real interest until now.

Was he gay?

He was pretty sure that by age nineteen, he was supposed to have figured out his sexuality…but how could he? He hadn't had time to figure anything out. He'd barely ever even had the time to think about what day it was…how old he was…his favourite colour…there was no way he'd ever have been able to explore something as complicated as his sexuality.

But what was complicated about it, really? He either liked guys, or he liked girls…that was it, right?

It wasn't as simple as that, though. He liked Leon, sure, but he'd liked Claire in the same way, when they'd been together on Rockfort Island. But maybe…maybe that was because he'd never really been intimate with a guy before. He'd never thought about the possibility that he was only attracted to girls because it was a given…because it was 'normal'. And now…well, sure, he could still picture a beautiful girl in his mind and think that she was attractive…but was he 'attracted' to her? Surely there's a big difference between knowing that somebody is good looking, and actually having sexual feelings for them…

…but he didn't.

He didn't have sexual feelings for any of the girls he could picture…no matter what colour hair they had, or how big their boobs were, or how skimpily-dressed he imagined them…he didn't feel anything. He tried imagining a girl naked…spread out on a bed…perfect body…gorgeous eyes…and all he could think was, 'she looks like she might be cold'.

And he wanted to cover her up with a blanket or something.

But he didn't want her at all.

He sat upright slowly.

Did that mean that he didn't like girls anymore? Sure, it was shallow, just to think of a girl based on her appearance…but this wasn't a test of how much he 'liked' someone…this was a test of whether or not he could get sexually aroused by them. And even if he was testing his theory based upon personality, connection and friendship, he'd seen Claire again recently, and he hadn't felt the same way about her. There was nothing even remotely sexual about the way he saw her now.

He thought that the Leon thing was just conditional…AKA: the guy had to be Leon…it had nothing to do with the fact that he had a dick, right?

He was pretty damn sure the only dick he'd ever been interested in was his own.

But now…

He got up from the bed, pacing around the room slowly, still deep in thought.

…thinking about a 'guy'…

He took off his jacket, dropping it over the dresser lazily and leaning back against it, biting the edge of his thumb distractedly.

…imagining a firm, toned body against his back…pressing his face down into the pillows…hips rocking hard against his own…and the feeling of something…inside him…

He felt the very noticeable ache of arousal in his lower abdomen, tugging lightly at the bottom of his shirt as his mind flipped.

Okay…so maybe he 'was' gay.

Did it matter?

He shrugged slightly to himself, as though he suddenly now needed movements to accentuate his internal sexuality monologue.

It didn't matter to him that he was gay…and it's not like he had any parents to worry about coming out to…

Ouch.

…and anyway, the only people he cared about anymore…Leon, and Claire, and Sherry…it's not like they were going to care. Claire probably knew before he even knew himself. And Leon…well, aside from the fact that it wouldn't bother him anyway, Leon had kissed him. Steve worriedly doubted whether or not he was the one who had made the first move, but he was quite sure that 'Leon' had kissed 'him'.

Did that mean that Leon was gay?

Probably not; he just didn't seem as though he was. But given the fact that he had just made out, quite passionately, Steve could add, with another guy, then he was obviously at least bisexual. Unless…maybe…it was just a random, 'spur-of-the-moment' mistake.

"Ugh."

Steve landed on the bed again, this time on his front, kicking his boots off onto the floor with a light 'thud'.

In any case, he was now suffering what was, quite probably, the worst case of arousal he had ever experienced, to the point where it was literally becoming painful. He didn't even understand how there was enough blood left in the rest of his body for him to actively move his limbs, and his jeans were so painfully tight, that he was actually beginning to feel as though even his breathing was being restricted by their presence against his body.

If Leon hadn't really meant to kiss him…then did he have to do it like 'that'?

He lazily used his feet to push his socks off the edge of the bed onto the floor, before crawling into a more comfortable position, allowing his face to sink into the pillows, resting his hands against the cool material, too.

Maybe it was hormones, or maybe it was due to his feelings for Leon, or maybe it was caused by the fact that he was almost twenty and he'd only just experienced his first real kiss…but he was finding himself getting so easily turned on lately, that it was starting to become a significant problem. Luckily, it usually only happened when he was alone, and so he could quickly do something about it. And 'quickly' was an understatement, because, perhaps for the same reasons, his 'alone time' never lasted longer than a few minutes. Either way, he was starting to feel desperate. No matter how many times he did it, he never felt satisfied…he just needed something…more.

During this thought process, one of his hands found its way down his stomach and onto the button of his jeans, unfastening it and tugging down the zip, consequently relieving some of the tension against his groin.

He could do this a million times, and it always felt as though there was something…missing.

Shuddering lightly when his erection brushed against his palm through his underwear, he pressed his hand down and started to rub, not too slowly and not too fast, gaining just enough heated friction from the material against his skin to merit short jolts of pleasure through his lower abdomen. He kept his face pressed into the bed, hiding reality from sight, and allowing his imagination to turn his hand into someone else's…into Leon's. And as soon as it did, he felt the feeling build, felt his hips buck…

…but it just wasn't 'enough'.

He stopped, sitting up on his knees and sighing fairly heavily, running his hand roughly through his hair.

If he did it that way, it would be the same outcome as usual. It would feel good, sure, and, of course, it wouldn't take long for him to reach the desired end, but afterwards, he'd still get that odd feeling of emptiness.

Tiredly, he pushed himself up off the bed and kicked his shoes into their usual spot by the door. He only had one pair, so it seemed pretty pointless to tidy them away. Then, after dumping his socks into the laundry basket by the bathroom, he decided to take a shower, worrying slightly that it was around one in the morning and he was probably disturbing Leon. Then again…who cares? This was all his fault anyway.

Steve dropped the rest of his clothes across the dresser with his jacket, before going into the bathroom and closing the door firmly, locking it. There was never really any point in him locking the bathroom door, but after three years of never having had any privacy, it had sort of become a habit.

The automatic light flickered on behind the bathroom mirror, giving the room its usual soft, slightly fluorescent glow as he reached in and turned on the shower, adjusting the spray slightly before he got in. The heat from the water, which he'd always liked 'really' hot, steamed up the glass walls of the shower instantly, and filled the room with a thin layer of steam. It was probably something to do with the T-Veronica virus, but, while cold sometimes affected him quite badly, he could withstand a lot more heat than his body should be able to, and now always had a higher temperature than the average person.

Once in the shower, he stayed under the spray for a while, letting the water run over him, hoping that it would help to calm him…perhaps relax his body a little, but the longer he stood there, watching droplets of water run clear lines through the steamed up tiles of the wall close to his face, all he could think of was that Leon's bathroom was right behind that wall…and the urge to march right into his room at that moment became unbearable.

His lust never lessened…and he felt the muscles in his stomach and his thighs prickling slightly irritably from the way he ignored the needs of his body. Resting one of his arms against the wall with his forehead against it, he took a deep breath, but it never steadied his disposition.

He slid his hand across his stomach slowly, and across one of his hips, the water between his body and his palm allowing his fingertips to glide smoothly across his skin, igniting his arousal with renewed passion. His fingers then worked their way across his hip and onto his waist, gripping at his flesh there slightly, finding some kind of odd new pleasure in the feeling of the soft curve where his back arched from the wall. He felt that ache deep in the pit of his stomach again as his fingertips found the bottom of his back, his index finger rested just slightly against a hotter, tighter section of sensitive skin.

He'd always still be left feeling…empty…

Gulping, he pushed the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle underneath it, feeling

his body tense slightly at the unfamiliar intrusion. But there was something else…something that sparked across his spine as he slid his finger deeper, the water providing sufficient lubrication to ease the movement. He didn't even realise how far he'd taken it until he felt the curve of his other fingers press against the bottom of his back, and his thighs shuddered briefly.

It was…strange…it was…foreign…but every time he moved his finger, even just a little, brushing against the walls of muscle pressed hotly around it, he felt that same jolt of pleasure up the length of his spine and down into his legs. His skin felt as though it was on fire. The feeling…of having something inside him like that…it was driving him crazy. The way his body reacted as he started to move his finger; the way it began to satisfy that ache somewhere deep down, literally brought him to the point where he almost couldn't even stand; had his fingers gripping against the tiles of the wall slightly helplessly and his breathing heavy.

He never believed that something like this could feel so good, but he felt his orgasm growing quickly with the speed of his finger, his back arching further, skin stinging slightly from the constant shower of hot water hitting his back, only adding to the sensation. Maybe it was just because it was new…it was different and exciting…but even just the thought of what he was doing intensified the pleasure. It was just so…hot…and wet…and tight…and all he could think was how much better Leon could probably do this to him. Faster…harder…deeper…

His hips jolted sharply as he came over the edge, and he let his body rest against the wall heavily, still moving his finger slowly as he rode it out, a sharp moan ripping itself from his throat before he could stop it.

For a while afterwards, he stayed against the wall of the shower, palms pressed against the tiles, catching his breath, watching the wall just inches from his face. And he suddenly felt exhausted, his limbs slightly heavy, and his eyelids threatening to close before he was clear of the bathroom.

After drying himself off and pulling on some clean underwear, he hit the bed heavily and buried himself into the sheets, his heart still beating loudly in his ears, barely able to take the time to hope to the sweet, merciful lord that Leon hadn't heard any of that, before he was taken swiftly by sleep.

At least now…he was pretty sure about his sexuality.


	22. Chapter 22

The next morning, after dressing and tidying himself, Steve spent a long time leaning against his bedroom door, with his ear pressed against it, listening for signs of Leon moving around. He'd woken up later than usual, and it was almost noon, which meant that it was highly unusual that he couldn't hear any signs of movement in the rest of the apartment. He was positive that Leon would already be up, probably working on his laptop in the living room, like he always seemed to be when they were at home, but he couldn't hear the usual, unmistakable tapping of keyboard keys as he typed. It was oddly…silent.

He decided to steady himself and just leave his room. He was feeling slightly nervous about talking to Leon, worried about what the conversation would entail. No doubt Steve wouldn't even get a chance to talk, and would be forced to sit there quietly and listen to Leon reject him; tell him it was all a big mistake.

However, after leaving his room, closing the door gently behind him, he noticed that the apartment was empty. Leon's laptop was closed on the coffee table beside the sofa, and the atmosphere was still. He was sure that it wasn't possible for Leon to still be asleep, but when he looked over to the bedroom door beside his own, the door was still closed, only slightly ajar.

As slowly and carefully as he could, he crept over to Leon's bedroom door, his footsteps, thankfully, cushioned and silenced by the plush carpet in the hallway. Once he'd made his way safely over to the door, he rested his shoulder against the wall, again, spending a while listening for any noise, but he couldn't hear anything. He became slightly worried that something was seriously wrong…maybe Leon was ill…maybe he was depressed because of everything that had happened last night…maybe he'd been murdered…

Okay, so he definitely hadn't been murdered…anyone stupid enough to sneak into Leon's apartment and attempt to attack him would deserve the ass-kicking they'd get.

"Leon?"

Steve waited for several minutes with bated breath after he'd called his name, but there was no reply, and after pushing the door open so that he could see more clearly inside the room, it was now clear that it was empty.

Everything was perfectly in place. The bed was so tidy it didn't even look as though anyone had slept in it, and there was nothing strewn about; nothing left lying around. Steve had at least expected to see a photograph or two…maybe a stray sock here or there…but the room was spotless. The only thing that stood out at all from the white and beige colour scheme was a black, two piece suit hanging up on the front of the wardrobe, along with its matching shirt and tie, and there wasn't even one tiny crease in any of the material, as though it had just been freshly cleaned and pressed. At least it gave the room some character, but overall, it still looked like a photograph from a furniture catalogue.

Steve briefly considered the idea of snooping around a little in Leon's room. It was obvious that he was alone in the apartment, and therefore, it would be the perfect opportunity, really…but he quickly decided against it. He knew that if there was ever anything he wanted to know, he could ask, and Leon would probably tell him, which made sneaking around his personal affairs seem all the more wrong.

In any case, it was clear that Leon had gone out somewhere…without him…and without telling him…after he'd quite clearly specified that they were going to have their 'talk' in the morning. It would make sense that Leon was avoiding him, though, he thought, as he re-closed Leon's door and made his way into the kitchen. Well, Steve had been trying to avoid Leon by not coming out of his room for the past hour, even though he wasn't there, so he couldn't really act like he wasn't guilty in this situation.

It was just strange, though, because it didn't seem very 'Leon-like' to just walk out like that without saying anything. Leon had clearly been in far worse situations than accidentally kissing someone and then having to talk to them about it…maybe he was just awkward in that way. It would make sense that that was the reason he'd never been in a real relationship before, as he'd told Steve a while ago. Also, Leon could clearly get anyone he wanted…he could be dating…Jessica Alba, or Megan Fox…or Beyoncé, and yet he was still single, and apparently had been for the past three years. Maybe he just wasn't good with relationships. Maybe that was just another awkward quirk of his.

But there was no way Steve could ever put him down for that, even if he had chickened out and walked out on him without saying a word. If anything, that just made him even more adorable.

Steve smiled slightly to himself as he gulped back a glass of orange juice, resting his hand against the counter, only then noticing the piece of paper that had been neatly sitting there the whole time, reading it.

_Steve, _

_I got a call this morning from one of the people I work for. They want me to go down to the main office for a while. Not sure what it's about, but it's probably just a briefing. It takes a while to drive down there, so I'm going to make the most of it, and I'll be gone for a few hours, but I should be back for dinner (don't worry, I'll pick something up). I left some money for you on the counter, in case you want to buy lunch (if not, there's stuff in the refrigerator). Sorry I had to leave. We'll talk when I get back._

_Leon_

There was a twenty dollar bill next to the letter, with a key sitting on top of it, which Steve assumed was for the apartment. He picked it up and twirled it slightly between his fingers, slightly hypnotised for a while by the quality of the metal; it looked brand new. He tucked the key into his pocket carefully as he smiled, before sitting down on one of the stools there.

If Leon had had a key made for him…that meant that he was planning on him staying.

Before he even took the time to consider what he was going to do with his day, Steve pulled a slightly worn and crumpled little piece of paper out of his pocket, reading the number written on the front, before picking up the phone and dialling, the grin never leaving his face.

Claire picked him up on her motorcycle about an hour later, and they talked excitedly for a while about his release from the facility, and his new 'apartment'. Claire assured him that while she'd played a large part in having him 'discharged', it was Leon's idea from the beginning.

After their initial, girly chattering outside the building, Claire drove them back to the facility to see Sherry. Apparently, considering the fact that they knew so much about Sherry's virus, and that she'd remained stable for such a long time, as well as having recently turned thirteen, Claire was now allowed to visit her up to three times a week, and Sherry was allowed to be taken out of the facility during these visits, as long as she didn't 'stray' too far. In which case, Claire had decided it a brilliant idea for the three of them to have lunch at a café that was within walking distance from the facility.

Steve had thought that it would be a lot harder than it was, to see the building again, but was surprised to find out that it didn't invoke any emotion in him at all. A few of the employees nodded at him; some even ventured a smile or said 'Hello', and he felt nothing but good will towards them. It was all in the past. It was over. Now he was happy…so happy, in fact, that none of this mattered to him anymore. Not his past, or the virus, or the still uncomfortably green coloured skin on his left arm. It didn't matter at all. He had a real life now.

And it was all thanks to Leon.

Once they had successfully removed Sherry from the facility, after several forms and security checkpoints that seemed as though they would be much more fitting in a prison, they had a pleasant, peaceful walk towards the café Claire had been talking about.

The café itself was within a large, public garden. There were several other shops there, but they were all small, and quaint-looking. It was a very pretty little area, in all, and the café itself was just as dainty, selling little round mugs of tea and coffee, and various types of cake. There were seats outside, but the air was slightly crisp and chilly, so they stayed inside, huddled close together at a corner table.

Steve tapped his finger slightly nervously, and a tiny bit excitedly, against the edge of his coffee mug, watching the steam.

"Uh…there was actually something important that I wanted to talk to you about, Claire. And, uh…I don't care if Sherry hears it, too, but…you guys might not believe me."

Claire looked up at him from the slice of chocolate cake she was eating, shrugging slightly and raising one of her eyebrows in the quirky way she always did.

"Zombie viruses, evil pharmaceutical corporations, giant mutant spiders…what else ya got?"

Sherry chuckled slightly, and so did Steve, shaking his head slightly.

"Okay, true, but this is…even more unbelievable. And…I kinda need some advice."

"Hit me."

"Okay…" He took a deep breath, readying himself, "Leon kissed me."

Claire paused as she was eating, lowering the fork.

"He 'kissed' you?"

Sherry also looked at Steve with a slightly puzzled look on her face.

"Yeah." Steve nodded quickly, "It's true. I mean…I know it sounds like something I woulda made up, because…well, it's Leon…but I swear it's true. 'He' kissed 'me'. And it wasn't just like a…peck on the lips or something, either," at this he raised his eyebrows slightly, and so did Claire.

She paused for a while, still chewing a mouthful of cake slowly, as though mulling it over in her mind, before swallowing.

"Was it good?"

Steve held his hands up slightly, laughing.

"'That's' what you're focussing on?!"

Sherry laughed, covering her mouth a little, and Steve looked at her, amused.

"What are you laughing at?"

Sherry took a sip of the milkshake she'd ordered, watching him, before wiping her mouth with the corner of her sleeve, shrugging.

"Claire told me that you liked boys, but I didn't think she meant Leon."

"Claire!"

Claire laughed, holding her hands up in defence.

"What? She would've found out anyway, she's a genius. Besides, what's the big deal? You can like whoever you wanna like."

"…Sure, but I don't 'like' boys…" He paused "Okay, well, maybe I do, but that has nothing to do with…okay, we are getting off topic here."

Claire and Sherry looked at each other, chuckling.

"Oh, yeah, ha ha ha, laugh it up." Steve folded his arms, "My life is hilarious. I'm so awkward, I have a huge crush on a guy who's way outta my league, and my only friends are girls, and one of 'em's thirteen."

Sherry held her hands together in her lap, watching him.

"If Leon kissed you, then that means that he likes you too, doesn't it?"

Steve unfolded his arms again, resting them against the table, sighing.

"I don't know…maybe. It's just…I mean…it's Leon!"

"Yes, we know who Leon is," Claire chuckled, sipping her latte, "And if you really want my opinion, you are overreacting. Sherry's right. If he kissed you, then that probably means that he has feelings for you too, and this is Leon we are talking about. He is not going to run away from you. He is not going to make things uncomfortable for you. Just talk to him."

Steve paused, watching them both for a while, before nodding, smiling.

"Yeah…yeah, you're right."

"Yes we are," Claire nodded, eating some more cake, "Men. Honestly."

Sherry chuckled slightly into her glass.

"Steve isn't really a 'man'."

Steve held his hands up from the table slightly, raising his eyebrows.

"Wow. What a weird way to kick me while I'm down."

Claire and Sherry both laughed again, and Steve couldn't help but laugh with them.

It was early evening when he arrived home, and the apartment was still empty, but he busied himself turning on all of the lights, drawing the curtains and cleaning the dishes he'd used that morning for breakfast, before settling down onto the couch, the speed of his pulse clearly indicating his discomfort with what he knew was coming as he heard footsteps on the linoleum floor in the corridor outside the apartment.

Leon came into the apartment shortly afterwards, holding several paper bags, resting them down onto the counter, before looking over at Steve slowly. Their eyes met, and Leon smiled warmly, and it didn't feel awkward, or uncomfortable, or worrying.

Because Steve realised that he would always be safe with Leon.

No matter what happened, he would always have a friend.

And as long as he was with Leon…

…he was home.


	23. Chapter 23

After Leon had entered the apartment, there was a lengthy moment of silence between them; Leon at the kitchen counter and Steve on the couch at the opposite side of the room. Perhaps the silence was due to the need of careful thought before either of them spoke, or maybe it was just a calm pretence to the slightly uncomfortable conversation that was to follow. Either way, the silence itself was, strangely, not awkward at all.

Leon was the first to speak, emptying the contents of the paper bags onto the counter calmly as he did so.

"I got dinner. It's Italian. I was gonna get Chinese, but then I remembered you telling me about that little Italian bistro you used to live by that you loved so much, and I changed my mind." He looked at Steve briefly as he spoke, still smiling, his features soft and relaxed.

Steve couldn't help but smile himself, caught up in the pleasant ambiance that had settled in the apartment as soon as Leon walked in.

"I can't believe you remembered that."

"I listen." Leon chuckled softly, bringing the food over to where Steve was sitting and laying it out on the coffee table with the necessary tableware, before he took a seat beside him on the couch.

"Do you ever eat anything but takeout food? Because to me it looks as though either your bedroom door is secretly a portal to the gym and you work out instead of sleeping, or you have some kind of deal with Satan, because there's no way you should have a body like that."

Leon laughed, looking at Steve and raising his eyebrows a little, before dishing out two bowls of creamy, take-away pasta, tucking a fork into each little spaghetti nest and sitting back properly away from the table.

"I only eat take-out food when I'm busy or lazy." Leon paused briefly, before nodding, shrugging, "So, yeah, all the time."

Steve laughed, watching him, crossing his legs up on the couch, picking up one of the bowls and holding it in the palm of one of his hands, enjoying the heat radiating from the porcelain.

Leon left the other bowl to sit on the coffee table, before shifting his position slightly to face Steve properly, resting one of his arms against the backrest.

"So, this is the deal: we're gonna eat dinner and we're gonna talk, and then we're gonna relax and watch a movie, and nothing is going to change. You still live here. We're still friends. And no matter what happens, those things don't change. Deal?"

Steve paused briefly, before nodding, still feeling oddly relaxed.

"Deal."

"Okay. So…I'm gonna be completely honest with you now, and I'm just gonna say what's on my mind, and I hope that you're gonna do the same."

Steve nodded quickly in agreement, swallowing the mouthful of pasta he was currently chewing his way through and lowering the bowl to his lap. Whatever Leon had to say, he'd be ready for it.

"So firstly, I wanna apologise for last night. I don't want you to feel like I'm…taking advantage of you…or that any of that had anything to do with me letting you live here. It was…inappropriate, and I wasn't really thinking. There was no excuse for it, so I'm sorry."

"You really think that I was expecting an apology? You did notice that I kissed you back, right?"

Leon chuckled slightly awkwardly.

"Yes, I did notice that. And I was getting to that part."

"Okay."

Leon paused for a short while, taking a deep intake of breath and sighing a little.

"…I…really like you, okay? I mean, we have a lot of fun together, and we have a lot of stuff

in common, and I think you're smart, and funny, and cute…"

"Ouch. I am nineteen."

Leon chuckled slightly, shaking his head a little.

"…okay, I think you're attractive. And honestly, taking you with me back from Antarctica, that was the most fun I have ever had on a job before…"

"There's a 'but' here, right?"

"'Fraid so." Leon nodded, looking slightly sympathetic. "'But'…I really don't think…that we can be looking at anything more than friendship."

Steve gulped back the lump in his throat slowly, nodding a little.

"I was pretty sure that's what you were gonna say."

"It's just that…I think we got a little too caught up in everything. Me as much as you. We had an adventure, we spent a lot of time together, and when two people go through that kind of situation with each other, they're bound to feel something…only…it can be…misguided."

Steve just continued to nod, silently, listening. Although, he didn't have to. He had predicted almost exactly the way this conversation would go; the things Leon would say, and the excuses he would make. It was all so obvious. But, although it should have lessened the blow, knowing all of that didn't dull the pain of it. Not at all.

"I realise that I was probably the first person you saw in a long time," Leon continued, his eyes still fixed calmly on the younger male sitting beside him, "And I was the first person to show you respect, and to treat you well…you've been through such a lot…way more than someone your age should ever have to deal with…but you've gotta realise that there's so much more out there for you than just this…than just me. And you'll see that there are so many amazing people out there who you can, and will make connections with. You're so young…you haven't experienced even a quarter of what you're gonna get out of your life."

"And you have?"

Leon paused, his expression softening a little to a much more melancholy one.

"I have a path now. Call it whatever you want…destiny…fate. Whether I wanted it or not, this is what I was meant to do with my life. And I can't see that ever changing. And no matter how many people I let into my life…it's a path I will always walk alone."

Leon paused briefly, and Steve was positive that, for the first time since they'd met, he saw pain in his eyes.

"Don't get me wrong…I love what I do; I know it's right for me…but I don't want you to have to go through the same things I have…see the things I've seen. You've already experienced so much of this world…far too much…and look what it did to you."

Steve glanced slightly hesitantly at his left arm, covered by his jacket sleeve, and Leon reached over, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder gently, drawing back his line of sight.

"But you don't have to let this be it. You can still live a normal life…get a normal job. You don't have to live in this world like I do. You don't have any obligations…there's no reason for you to stay tied to your past."

He paused, briefly, his eyes still set on Steve's with chilling intensity.

"I just want you to be happy, Steve."

Steve felt his stomach lurch a little. He wasn't even sure this time whether it was from the heart warming sentiment behind Leon's words, or the fact that he felt as though he was being pushed away. To leave this world behind…that could only mean one thing…to leave Leon behind.

He had already made peace with his past; with memories of his family…with the virus. He'd accepted it all already. After all, there was nothing he could do to change any of those things, now. Leaving this all behind him and moving away…getting a regular job, and regular friends, and having a regular home, and a family…none of those things would bring back his parents…none of those things would erase everything that had happened to him; what Umbrella had done to him, and to so many others. None of those things would cleanse the virus from his body…that was something he would always live with, no matter where he was, or how 'normally' he lived. Leon said that living in this world was his 'fate'…

"This is my life, too."

Leon was the one to stay silent, this time.

"Fate, or destiny, or whatever…we share the same path."

Steve reached his hand out slightly hesitantly, letting the tips of his fingers brush against the back of Leon's hand where it was rested against the couch, watching it slightly nervously for a while, as Leon's hand remained perfectly still.

"We were both dragged into this world before we even knew what was happening to us…"

Steve stroked his index finger lightly over a scar on the back of Leon's hand close to his thumb, feeling the older male's eyes on him the whole time.

"And maybe we were scared at first…" Steve took a slightly deep intake of breath, feeling his disposition strengthen somewhat, "and maybe we wanted to run away from it all, and never look back. And maybe we were always worried that we'd be trapped in this world forever…inside this hell…and we just wanted to be normal…wanted to be oblivious to it, like everyone else." Steve felt his eyes well up slightly, and silently begged himself not to falter…not to cry.

Not anymore.

"But then we realised that we weren't alone here."

He felt Leon's hand twitch slightly under his own, but he still didn't move, or speak.

"And then…the path didn't seem so long anymore…and we realised that it didn't have to be lonely…"

He felt Leon's hand shift again beneath his, but this time it turned, steadier, stronger fingers meeting his own, and then slipping gently between them, bringing their hands together lightly. He didn't turn his head to see his face, but he heard Leon's voice, with a lighter cadence; a tone much more pleasant than before. He sounded…happy.

"And we realised that there was light at the end of the path all along."

The older male chuckled softly at the end of his sentence, and Steve turned to look at him properly, feeling the corners of his own lips lift into a smile of their own accord, his eyes still clouded faintly with a mixture of emotion.

"I want to be with you," Steve stated bluntly, deciding to speak before he could think himself out of it, "And I don't care what that means. I don't care if it means I could die tomorrow. I don't care if it means I have to keep my life a secret from the rest of the world. I don't care if it means I can never be normal."

Leon's expression softened a little again as their eyes met, and he stayed silent for a while, before his face lit once more with what was, undeniably, happiness; relief.

"Being normal is pretty boring though, don't you think?"

Steve reciprocated the look of delight he saw in Leon's eyes, nodding, chuckling lightly, cut slightly short when Leon spoke again.

"This is really what you want, isn't it?"

Steve nodded without hesitation. He never had to question it himself. All he wanted was for Leon to realise the strength of his determination to see this through.

He was sure.

Positive.

This was all he wanted.

And he would accept it as it was; the good and the bad alike. He knew it wouldn't be easy, living in Leon's world.

Living in Umbrella's world.

A constant battle.

Fear.

Pain.

Loss.

But now…living in the real world seemed so much more terrifying.

"This is where I belong."

Steve rolled up the left sleeve of his jacket, resting his fingers against the infected skin there. He no longer felt ill when he looked at it anymore. In fact, he felt empowered. It was no longer a symbol of his pain. It was a medal. A badge of honour.

His breathing faltered a little when he saw Leon's hand on his arm over his own, and he looked up to meet his eyes once again, only to find Leon's face much closer to his own than it had been before, their noses touching lightly; breath mingling softly between them, before Leon kissed him.

It was soft, and gentle, and brief; not at all like it had been the first time. And there was more than passion in it; more than just lust.

There was love.


	24. Chapter 24

Nothing really changed between them after the second kiss they shared.

They were still close friends; they still ate dinner together every night, and watched movies together, and had lengthy conversations that lasted into the early hours of the morning.

But, at the same time, everything seemed to change.

That kiss…although shorter and less spectacular, in every way, than the first, was more than just a kiss. It was some sort of unspoken promise. An agreement…or a pact…whatever you want to call it. Steve had known at that moment, without being told, that their relationship had changed to something much more than friendship.

Over the next few days, Leon wasn't 'much' more affectionate than usual. The only real difference was the occasional kiss they shared when they crossed close to each other in the hallway, or at the table in the morning, or before they went to bed. But after that, they still went their separate ways into their own bedrooms. It all just seemed like part of Leon's general stoic demeanour. His previous objection to their being anything more than friends, of course, meant that it was highly unlikely he was going to rip Steve's clothes off at the first opportunity he had…and he'd had plenty of such opportunities.

Steve had mentally noted them all.

Still being the emotional, sexually frustrated mess that he was, he took every opportunity to drop hints and show willing, sometimes even trying his hand at the 'delicate art of seduction'. But it was clearly far too delicate an art for Steve, because it never got him anywhere. And Leon was much too sensible and sophisticated to be caught by something as gaudy and tactless as Steve 'accidentally' bending over in conveniently close proximities to him, or spending far too much time walking around the apartment in his underwear before he got dressed in the morning.

In any case, no matter how much Steve wanted Leon to knock down his bedroom door and pin him to the nearest piece of furniture, if Leon wanted to take it slowly, then Steve would obediently do just that.

No matter how much he wanted to do the exact opposite.

In all honesty, this was the first real relationship Steve had ever had. Sure, he'd had girlfriends before; plenty, in fact, but those weren't serious relationships. Firstly, of course, he'd only been in his early and mid-teens during the time of said 'relationships', and the longest one had probably lasted a good two weeks, at best. No matter what type of girl these relationships had been with, it had never moved further than making out under the clichéd bleachers of the high school football field. In light of this, he found it increasingly difficult to understand how he was supposed to act now that he was in what could be classed as a 'real', 'adult' relationship.

He knew very well, of course, that in a serious relationship, you wouldn't have sex with the person only a few days after it had started, no matter how much he wished the rules were reversed. It left him to wonder how long it would take before they were at that stage…when they would be that close.

They were good friends, of course; best friends, you could say…but no matter how much Steve opened up to Leon about anything and everything, it always seemed as though Leon was holding things back. The age difference between them was small, and mostly ignored, but to Leon, it was apparent that it made a big difference. That difference being that he was an adult…and Steve was not. It didn't really matter how many books Steve had read, or how much he 'knew' about things; Leon had real experience. He'd lived situations Steve could only ever imagine being part of, he'd taken opportunities, and risks, and had relationships that were all far beyond anything Steve could ever account for. He had spent the past three years of his life in captivity, hidden away from the outside world, from real life.

And it showed.

In many ways, it was almost as though he was still just seventeen…and everything between that and his current age of nineteen was just…blank space.

However, despite the tiny part of Steve that resented the fact that he wasn't yet an adult, there was a much bigger part of him that got excited at the idea. He knew Leon; he trusted him…he loved him. If he could have chosen anyone to be his 'mentor'…to teach him about relationships, and work, and the world, of course he would have chosen Leon, who, in turn, took every opportunity to make sure that Steve didn't feel left behind. If there was something in the apartment that needed fixing, Leon would show him how to fix it. When the bills needed paying, Leon talked him through the paperwork, even though he expected no contribution. Whenever they weren't eating takeout food, and on the rare occasion that Leon cooked, Steve would sit at the kitchen counter and watch, and listen as Leon explained whatever he was doing, and where to buy which products, and which brands were the best. Steve felt as though he'd gained more life experience living with Leon for three weeks than he'd gained during the previous three years altogether.

Life just felt…good.

On one particular day, while Steve was lazily eating a bowl of cereal on the couch, he almost fed the cereal to the carpet instead, when he felt Leon's arms snake around his shoulders from behind, and lips press briefly against his cheek. He wasn't sure whether to take advantage of the opportunity and get Leon in a headlock before he could pull away, or to be extremely worried that there was something wrong with him. Even on the best of days, Leon was never 'that' affectionate. In fact, even when they kissed, it was brief, and light, and Leon seemed completely averse to letting any part of their bodies touch other than their lips, and occasionally their hands. Sure, they hadn't even been together for a week, but Steve was quite sure that he was more than ready to let 'every' part of his body touch Leon, and so this shocking new act of affection almost caused him to lose it completely and tear his own clothes off in a fit of lust.

Almost.

"Well, someone seems weirdly happy today." Steve managed to state, slightly muffled through a mouthful of cheerio's.

Leon chuckled slightly childishly as he made his way briskly over to the kitchen, walking mostly backwards as he looked upon the younger male in amusement, skipping a step about half way in an elegant manoeuvre around the coffee table.

"I'm always happy. What are you insinuating?"

"No…you're always 'Leon'."

"…is it that obvious? I haven't even told my parents."

Steve shook his head in sarcastic amusement, unable to contain the slightly girlish giggle that escaped his lips. No matter how stupid and childish their conversations sometimes became, he did enjoy the rare ability to 'joke around' with someone as high-profile and sensible as Leon. He was pretty positive that Leon would never show this side of himself around anyone else.

"Hilarious."

"What's that supposed to mean, anyway? What is it to be 'Leon', considering the fact that my name has suddenly become an adjective?"

"You're just…you're Leon."

"I'm glad that's cleared up."

"Well, you don't usually act out your emotions. It's hard to tell sometimes if you're happy or if you're angry…and I never really get when you're joking or you're serious. You're just an enigma."

"I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment. Mysterious works for me. Mysterious and suave."

"…not so much." Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Suave…really?"

"Hey." Leon raised a finger, pointing at him. "You said I was like James Bond. You're not allowed to take that back."

Steve laughed, placing the empty bowl onto the table, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

"Well…I meant because of your job, not your personality."

"Really? It works pretty well on 'you'." Leon said quietly, looking quite pleased with himself, as he emptied the dishwasher and stacked plates and mugs back into their respective cupboard.

"Say what now?"

"Oh, please." Leon looked over at him again, tilting his head very slightly in quirky amusement, "For some unknown reason, you think I built the Earth with my bare hands. You do everything I ask, without question, you agree with everything I say, even if I know we have different opinions, you laugh at my jokes even though they're terrible, and you clean the apartment when I never asked you to, even though I have seen your room and it looks as though it just barely survived a nuclear missile attack."

"Well, when you say it all out loud, it does sound kinda like I am kissing your ass. And that's because I am."

Leon chuckled, closing the cupboard beside his head.

"Case closed."

"Well, of course I am…you saved my life, am I not allowed to be grateful?"

"And?"

"And you are 'insanely' hot."

Leon laughed, holding his hand over his face briefly, leaning against the counter.

"No, not that!"

"Okay fine! You are suave. You are a smooth operator. You have a way with words. I don't know what it is…you're just like a seductive wizard or something."

"…wow. Okay."

"You are James Bond, the hot, seductive wizard. Are you happy now?"

"Mostly confused…but yeah, kinda happy." Leon chuckled, before he clapped his hand against the countertop resolutely. "Anyway, hurry up and get dressed, because we're going out. Also, it's almost lunchtime and you've just finished breakfast."

Steve pouted slightly, getting up from his comfortable slouch on the couch and stretching as he did so.

"Going out where?"

"Just out." Leon looked slightly amused, stirring a mug of coffee he'd started to make for himself; probably not his first mug of the morning. "Out places."

"Out places…" Steve decided not to get into another little word-play fight with Leon; he almost always lost anyway, so he retreated into his room to get dressed, muttering to himself on the way.

Once they were finally out in these 'places' Leon had mentioned, the trip didn't feel as though it was destined towards anywhere particularly special. They didn't take a car, or a bus, or a taxi, instead they just walked towards the nearest commercial district somewhat languidly. Leon didn't seem as though he was in any kind of hurry; it definitely didn't look as though he was keeping an appointment, and he barely looked away from Steve at all while they were talking.

Steve found it fairly difficult, as, in fact, he did most of the time, to focus on anything that Leon was saying, so engrossed in watching him as he was. It was strange, really, how, no matter how much time he spent with Leon, he never felt tired of his company. They were together every day now, usually for the majority of the day. The only time they really spent apart was when Leon had work or while they were asleep. And even then, Leon had started to bring Steve with him on a lot of his jobs. They weren't important or anything; just routine errands, really. Leon had said it was important for Steve to get a feel of what he did on a day-to-day basis, so that he knew what kind of work he was getting into. It wasn't all flashy and exciting, like some of the missions Leon had been on before, and sometimes Steve would even go as far as to say it was boring; filing paperwork, attending meetings, reading documents and research gathering. Leon had never openly admitted that he found those parts of his job boring, and had simply described them as 'crucial', but it was fairly obvious to Steve that Leon didn't get any thrill from these particular aspects of his work. Seeing him out there in action on one of the more dangerous jobs was the moment you could really see him shine. He seemed to get a thrill from it. And Steve couldn't blame him. He was starting to feel that same 'itch' for something a little more…dangerous.

"You're not listening to me at all, are you?"

Steve blinked a few times in cartoonish surprise as he dragged his brain back to reality, glad that it was only amusement he could see in Leon's expression, and nothing akin to anger or disappointment.

"Uh…"

"You always do that while I'm talking. Either you have the attention span of an amoeba or I'm really, really boring."

"…No! You're not boring! It's my fault, I just get distracted easily…besides, it's kinda hard to listen while you're talking and I'm looking at your face and then my mind just kinda goes elsewhere."

"Where elsewhere?"

"…um…"

Leon raised his eyebrows a little, before he chuckled and quickly brushed it off, looking ahead of them and stopping.

"Okay, we're here."

Steve looked around questioningly. They were in a quieter, more expensive-looking part of the city, where the stores were smaller, and the assistants watched you through the window with up-turned noses, almost daring you to come in. He never went into those places, himself, and he didn't personally know anyone who shopped in them. It was quite intimidating, really, being in such an up-scale area looking the way he did. If 'teenagers' weren't already unjustly hated enough, then being a scruffy-haired, questioningly-dressed, teenage male with a very noticeable pierced ear wasn't going to win over anyone's trust or affection.

Steve looked at Leon with a quirked eyebrow.

"Here?"

Leon answered the question with a slight motion of his hand, opening the rusty gilt-edged door of a tiny, antique-looking store next to them, holding the door open for Steve as he rather un-willingly entered.

The inside of the store was made entirely of dark, rustic wood; floors, walls, and furniture alike. There were rows and rows of sharply tailored suits, slowly revolving tie racks, and innumerable pairs of dress shoes, each in very slightly different shades of black. The air in the store was slightly musty and claustrophobic, but it was comfortable, like that feeling you get when you go to visit your grandparents' house.

"A tailor?"

Leon nodded slightly, smiling as he closed the door carefully behind them, looking around the store as though he was returning to his family home. The little brass bell above the door, which had sounded when they came in, drew the attention of a slightly withered little old man from the back of the store, who came across to them with a warm smile and open arms.

"Leon!" The little old man had a very slight hint of an Italian accent, thickly hidden by a very over-exaggerated American one, clearly built from a lifetime of living in the states. However, the overly-familiar way he greeted them as they came into the store, and the slightly outlandish gestures he used as he spoke were more than enough to reveal his heritage.

Leon greeted the man just as warmly, and looked just as happy to see him as the old man looked to see Leon, before he quickly turned to Steve.

"Oh, Steve, this is Antonio. He's been my tailor since I was about twelve years old."

"You have a tailor?" Steve raised his eyebrows a little, "Exactly what time period are we living in?"

The man called Antonio laughed, clapping his hands together roughly, his gaze fixed on Steve. Although, it was hard to tell, because his eyes seemed almost always to be scrunched together as though he was either in a lot of pain, or permanently amused.

"I like him! He's funny!"

Steve couldn't help but laugh, partly from flattery and the general friendly atmosphere of the meeting, and partly from surprise and discomfort. He looked at Leon again briefly, before looking back at Antonio, holding his hand out.

"Uh…nice to meet you. I'm Steve."

Antonio laughed again, loudly, completely ignoring Steve's outstretched hand and pulling him into an awkward, but nonetheless slightly comforting hug, patting his back quite roughly as he did it. Leon just watched them, occasionally chuckling to himself, clearly finding the whole thing quite hilarious.

After the initial hilarity of Steve's introduction to Antonio, and a fairly lengthy conversation between the little old man and Leon while Steve stayed awkwardly out of the way, they were ushered into a room at the back of the store, which was even smaller than the first, and had several tailored suits in plastic covers, and a dressing room.

Steve obediently stood still in front of a mirror in the centre of the room, as Antonio quite forcefully moved his limbs around and measured various parts of his body, jotting it all down on a well-used little notepad with a pencil. For such an elderly and frail looking man, Antonio had a surprising amount of strength, and a very clear 'no fuss' work ethic.

Steve looked over at Leon, who was still standing next to them, his arms folded across his chest, looking as though everything was going according to his plan…whatever his 'plan' was.

"I don't know what's happening right now, I'm just kinda going with it here…"

"We're at a tailor and you're being measured, what do you think is going on here?" Leon chuckled.

"Measured for what?" Steve paused briefly, his brain jumping immediately to the best possible conclusion, "Is this a secret tailor? Am I being measured for some kind of spy gear?"

Leon looked amused, and cocked an eyebrow.

"Seriously, how old are you? You're getting a suit."

"Why?"

"Because you need one."

"Why?"

"Every guy should have a suit. Think of it as a 'coming of age' ceremony."

"I had a suit…you know, when I was ten and my mom made me wear it to church every Sunday."

"Well, you need one now so you can be a real grown up. Congratulations."

As they continued their childish bickering, Antonio quite forcefully stripped Steve of his clothes and re-dressed him in a sleek, very expensive-looking, black, two piece suit, and a white dress shirt, holding ties up against Steve's collar in the midst of fastening the jacket buttons with his free hand, looking as calm and collected as though he'd done it a million times. It was the mark of a true professional, who'd been in the business for a 'very' long time.

"…I don't need a suit. Besides, aren't you paying for this? Isn't it expensive?"

"Money isn't an issue."

Steve stretched back a little awkwardly as Antonio neatly, but quite brashly, fastened a black tie made of thick, Italian silk around his neck, adjusting the collar of his shirt accordingly around it.

"You always say that."

"That's because it's true."

Antonio, still completely ignoring the two of them, slipped a pair of black dress shoes onto Steve's feet, adjusting the bottom hems of his trousers to sit neatly against his ankles.

"I still don't need a suit…nobody really 'needs' a suit, except maybe the president."

"You need a suit when you're going out on a date."

"Yeah, sure, maybe, but I'm n…"

Steve froze mid-sentence, his heart feeling as though it did a little back flip in his chest. He looked at Leon, slightly speechless.

Leon raised his eyebrows a little, a smile, almost a smirk, twitching at the corners of his lips.

Antonio looked up at Steve as he finished his work, immediately breaking into another fit of raucous laughter, slapping Steve hard on the back…although it was clearly an affectionate slap, it did hurt.

"A date?! So the boy has found himself a beautiful young lady?!"

Steve's throat went dry, as he racked his brain for the right answer. Should he say 'yes'? Would Leon be upset if he lied about it? But on the other hand, maybe Leon wouldn't want anyone to know…maybe he was embarrassed…maybe he'd never tell anyone…maybe they weren't even in a relationship at all…had Steve been thinking himself into this all along, when it had never been verbalised? What the heck was he supposed to say? Maybe…

"Well if he has, then I'm gonna be pretty upset that he's seeing her when he's supposed to be going on a date with 'me'." Leon said plainly, without a hint of discomfort or uncertainty in his voice.

The store was silent for what felt like an eternity after that, and Steve continued to stare at Leon in a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and utter infatuation.

Antonio quickly broke the silence with another bout of unnecessarily loud chortling, clapping Steve roughly on the back again.

"Congratulations!"

And with nothing more than that, he left into the little storeroom at the back, still chuckling happily to himself, occasionally muttering things in Italian.

Steve found it very difficult to tell whether he had believed what Leon had said, and genuinely didn't find it strange at all, or he had considered it a joke, and not taken it seriously. Either way, Leon seemed fairly happy, too, and reciprocated Antonio's laughter as he watched the little old man leave the room, before he looked back at Steve, clearly amused at the younger male's expression.

"I…I don't…are you serious? I mean…were you joking, or…"

"I wasn't joking." Leon chuckled again slightly, lightly shrugging his shoulders, and approaching the boy calmly, brushing his hands across his shoulders and smoothing the material of the suit jacket over his chest.

It was strange…nice, sure…but very strange. It was probably the most physical contact Leon had ever allowed, and he was doing it freely; happily. And yet, no matter how strange it felt, there was something so natural about it…something so…perfect.

"But I guess, I'm not used to doing this. I probably should have asked you first. I don't really know the formalities."

"…I don't think 'you' need formalities." Steve chuckled slightly, watching Leon's hands on his tie as they provided further, very unnecessary straightening to the material. Leon's fingers lingered for a long time on Steve's tie in particular. "I mean…who's gonna say 'no'?"

Leon chuckled, finally moving his hands away from the strip of silk material, looking slightly reluctant to let go. It was faint, but Steve noticed it.

"Then, I guess I'm going to take you out on a date."

Steve couldn't help the smile that immediately forced its way out, feeling like some sort of ridiculous, bashful schoolgirl.

"So…I guess that I'm the girl, now? Is that how it is?"

"Steve, you were always the girl."

They both laughed, still standing close to one another.

Not quite close enough to touch.

But close enough to read the expression in each other's eyes.

Steve had never believed in destiny, or fate.

But if there was such thing as a soul mate…

…then he knew, more surely than anything else…

…that Leon would be his.


	25. Chapter 25

The gentle, musical clinking of expensive silverware against equally expensive porcelain brought Steve gently back to his senses, as, for the third time in a row, he found himself in a calm, semi-conscious stupor, mesmerised by Leon's eyes to the point where his voice had become nothing more than background noise. Last time it had been his lips. The time before that it had been one of his hands, which was rested elegantly against the corner of his wine glass on the table.

They had finished their meal several minutes ago, and were waiting for dessert. The restaurant Leon had chosen was the kind that seemed so upscale and expensive that Steve would have felt ridiculously out of place there, had he been alone. But with Leon, for the first time in his life, he felt as though he could comfortably fit in. They 'had' received a few strange looks from the other patrons…probably based on the fact that they were both…well, guys…but aside from two or three snooty, disapproving glances, they hadn't been bothered at all. The only thing, really, that made Steve feel uncomfortable, was the idea that Leon was the one paying for all this. He had no idea how much it cost for a three course meal in this kind of restaurant, having never been to one before, but he was positive that there would be more than one zero on the bill.

Luckily, Steve had distracted himself from thinking about it by instead keeping one hundred percent of his attention focused on Leon. It was becoming rather unbearable for Steve to focus on anything much more than those kinds of things, anyway…the way he subconsciously stroked the tip of his index finger across the bottom curve of the glass while he talked…how soft and inviting his lips always looked…the way the silvery hue of his irises lit up and glittered whenever any kind of light hit them. And every time Steve noticed any of those things, he would fixate on them, sometimes only for a few seconds, sometimes for several minutes, sometimes even longer than that, until he had mentally noted every tiny detail he could pick out. Until he had listed, in his mind, every perfect and beautiful thing about them.

It was becoming something of an obsession. And he was all too aware of it.

Sometimes so much so that it almost scared him.

He was pretty sure that it was unhealthy…the way he felt about Leon. And it didn't make sense. Why now? Why Leon? Why couldn't he think about anything else anymore? He questioned it daily, but no matter how much he told himself that it was all just excitement, because it was something new, and something so unbelievable, he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to pull away. Even if it was just a little.

"So I've always wanted to get a dog, rather than a cat, but I'm never in one place, so getting a pet would be irresponsible, I guess."

Steve's eyes rested on Leon's face again, and he nodded subconsciously along to the conversation. What were they talking about again? Animals?

"Then again, after some of the things I've seen, I'm not sure I even want to own a pet anymore. It's all zombie dogs and mutated fish and giant tentacle monsters."

Leon chuckled slightly to himself, and Steve couldn't help but smile, enjoying the sound of his laughter. There was something very sweet and delicate about the way he laughed. It was strange, really. Leon was always so strong and decisive and in control, and Steve had never seen him lose his cool before, even in the toughest situations, but, at the same time, there was this other side to him that was completely dorky and awkward. It was unbearably adorable.

Leon held his hand up from his glass a little, "Oh, and don't even get me started on the insects."

Gladly, before he could talk about the insects, Leon was interrupted by a waiter, who placed the long awaited desserts down in front of them. Leon had ordered the classic New York cheesecake. In many ways, Steve thought, it suited him perfectly. Steve had ordered the chocolate parfait, which he was almost one hundred percent sure was just chocolate mousse with a fancy name and a little bit of green crap balanced on top of it.

"It's mint." Leon chuckled, eyebrows raised slightly as he watched Steve flick the little piece of green 'crap' off the top of his dessert with a fork.

"I totally knew that."

"Of course you did."

Steve chuckled, looking at him and eating a spoonful of chocolate parfait, shrugging a little, licking a stray smear of the creamy dessert from his bottom lip slowly.

"Okay, so I'm not as 'high-class' and 'refined' as you are. I'm sorry that I'm a normal human being and not a classy, well-mannered secret agent who has his own tailor."

Leon laughed, and Steve very clearly noticed the older male's line of sight flicker briefly to Steve's lips, hovering a forkful of cheesecake halfway to his own mouth as his attention was distracted. It seemed to catch him off guard a little, and he quickly tried to conceal it by drawing his attention across the room to the maitre de.

"I'm gonna order some coffee. Do you want anything?"

Steve quickly suppressed any kind of expression that would show amusement, clearing his throat a little and shaking his head.

"Uh, no, thanks."

Once Leon had ordered his coffee, he turned back to Steve and smiled a little awkwardly, before returning to eating the cheesecake. Steve still had to try hard to stop himself from laughing. While he was definitely no prince charming himself, and his social skills still left a lot to be desired, he knew quite well that he was more openly confident in awkward situations than Leon was. Leon could put on a good show, sure; he could feign any kind of conviction, fake his way through conversations, and always play it calm and cool, but underneath, his personality could easily be described as 'reserved', maybe even 'timid' to a lesser extent. He was just very good at hiding it.

It was pretty cute.

Therefore, far be it from Steve, being the clownish, no doubt slightly irritating person that he knew he was, not to take advantage of such a situation.

He lifted another spoonful of the mousse to his lips, watching it as he did so, making perfectly sure that it looked as unintentional as possible as he rested it into his mouth and pressed his lips against the silver, sliding the dessert off onto his tongue. He was very aware that Leon was watching him, but he made sure not to look, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the candle in the middle of the table distractedly as he flipped the spoon on his bottom lip, allowing him to clean the delicate, concave metal with his tongue. He saw Leon shift in his seat from the corner of his eye, but noted, delightedly, that Leon was otherwise no longer moving, and was paying no further attention to his own food. Steve managed to suppress the smirk that twitched at the corners of his lips, and instead focused on lowering the spoon again just as delicately as he'd first picked it up.

"So, what are we gonna do when we get home?"

Leon hesitated before his answer. It was obvious that he'd only been paying attention to one thing.

"Uh…I don't know…what do you mean?"

Steve chuckled, shrugging casually.

"I mean, we could watch a movie or something, there's probably nothing on TV."

"Yeah…sure." Leon chuckled quietly, tapping one of his fingers against the table lightly.

"But we don't have to…we could do…something else."

Steve mentally held his breath as he said it, watching Leon carefully for any hint of reaction.

"W…"

Leon paused, as though mulling over the sentence in his mind, his expression tensing a little, but most strongly reflecting discomfort. He looked conflicted.

"Something else like…what?"

Steve gulped back the little lump that formed in his throat, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

He didn't have to question it. He knew exactly what he wanted to do when they got home. But that didn't mean it was going to happen. And it definitely didn't mean that he should say it out loud.

"Uh…"

He still felt Leon's gaze boring into him. Suddenly it didn't seem so funny anymore. He'd really dropped himself into it this time, and there was no backing out.

"Uhm…like…scrabble…"

"You're doing it wrong."

Steve looked up from the spot he'd been staring at on the tablecloth, meeting Leon's eyes.

"…H…huh?"

Leon sighed a little, before his expression relaxed and he chuckled, his voice softening.

"If you're trying to get someone to wanna sleep with you, then making jokes isn't really gonna cut it."

"…What?"

"You're supposed to be romantic. And try not to sound too desperate."

At this, Leon cocked an eyebrow slightly, looking amused.

"I'm not…" Steve paused, still watching him questioningly, waiting for the punch line. "I don't really get what's going on here."

"I'm giving you advice, because you're very readable and kinda bad at lying."

"Are you telling me…" Steve tipped his head to the side slightly, still not sure what do say or do, "…Are we like, flirting, or…"

"No, 'you' were flirting…badly." Leon chuckled, looking smug.

"Oh, great…"

"But you're pretty lucky that it works for you anyway."

Steve raised his eyebrows slightly.

"It does?"

Leon nodded slowly, still looking very amused, rubbing the back of his neck a little.

"Yeah."

"So…does that mean…"

"I'm gonna go pay for dinner."

Leon watched him a little longer, before standing up.

"Get your jacket."


End file.
